Cybernetic
by Doodled93
Summary: Daleks vaporized his arm... Cybermen gave him a new one. Somehow, Ianto Jones survives. Mild swearing
1. Lisa

Cybernetic

Ianto held himself stiffly the first time he met Jack Harkness. He tried to look relaxed, tried to look confident—didn't quite manage the first.

He casually mentioned weevils, casually tried to bring up that hey, he knew things, wouldn't Jack like him to join his branch of Torchwood?

Jack immediately shuts down.

Ianto's gloved hand clenches of its own volition. His shoulder aches.

Ianto thought it would have been useful to know that Jack Harkness despised any and all things to do with Torchwood One _earlier_.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

The next time wasn't much better, and the time after that…

Well.

He catches a break when he finds a Pteranodon in Cardiff—and wasn't _that_ one way to bring back some of the wonder of the universe? Give a man Cybermen and it turns into a nightmare, but give a man a dinosaur and he's revisiting his 11-year-old mindset—and feels his arm shift when Jack threatens to run him over. Clenches his other hand down over it in warning.

The interest in Jack's eyes when Ianto mentions a Pteranodon is a relief.

His arm goes slack under his grip.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He thinks for the first time that his… affliction has some uses when the Pteranodon scrapes claws over his arm as it wings past. Thinks that otherwise those claws would've made it to bone. Instead, it only ruins his sleeve.

Bugger.

As it is, while Harkness is distracted with the Pteranodon, he has to do a quick check that nothing is showing through the tear in fabric, to pull his handkerchief free from his pocket and tie it just under the tear…

Tie it to hide the shine of metal underneath.

When they end up rolling against each other in an effort to keep from getting crushed, Ianto has no room in his head to notice the warm press of Harkness against himself, let alone room enough to enjoy it.

Instead there's a blind panic hidden in the backs of his eyelids, a mantra of _please don't notice please don't notice, oh gods he must feel it, please don't—_

His heart was pounding when he finally managed to push away from the contact, and doesn't slow even after he's managed to convince Harkness to take him on…

It rankles some that he'll be on as a glorified Tea Boy, that he'll likely be kept from what he's been doing the past two years—what he's been _trained_ to do—by whoever's looking after Three's Archives, but he wasn't actually all that interested in rejoining Torchwood.

If he were really interested, he would have approached Harkness the one time and then moved onto UNIT afterwards…

Even if he doesn't like the militaristic gob shites it would have been better than knowing and not being able to do anything about it.

But his only interest right then was Lisa.

Lisa, and then his arm.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto would like to say that he took his whole _situation_ in stride from the get go, that he saw the problem and learned to deal with it… but he couldn't well say that when the first thing he tried to do coming out of Canary Warf was saw his arm off.

Tried, and _failed_.

_Horribly. _

His shoulder had already been aching, and there were a dozen other aches and pains he'd been dealing with not even counting the ones he got pulling Lisa to safety, but _Cybermen_, and _how could they do that_, and _just get it off_ had been running though his mind. He looked down at his gloved hand now, hearing the creak of leather as fingers flexed, and thought longingly for a prosthetic limb.

A useless one. One with interchangeable hands. One that he could take off and put on at will, one that he wouldn't constantly worry about, one that would allow him to look at the stump of his shoulder and see that his arm is gone. See and believe and stop being able to forget about it—because he shouldn't be able to forget like this.

Ianto had been ambidextrous before, more dominant on his right side, and now he mainly used his left hand—

Unless he forgot.

When he forgot, it was like he was normal when he wasn't; it was like he didn't have Lisa to look after, like he didn't have to worry about Jack Harkness finding out about his plans to bring Dr. Tanizaki into their secret base, like he wasn't in a constant state of _worryworryworryfretfretfret_ every hour of every day.

Because he was the Head Archivist—the _only_ Archivist, and wasn't that a joke—and he knew the bowels of Torchwood Three better than anyone, save Harkness perhaps, so Ianto could do this. Ianto could bring Tanizaki in, could have him look at Lisa and perhaps _help_…

He smoothed his expression and brought out coffee, empty smile and empty banter and air of polite disinterest a shroud around him, his armor.

His armor, polished to a eye-averting shine in his suits

(his suits that a vain part of him was glad fit normally, was glad to not have a gaping sleeve, and he was working on squishing that part out of him because _he wasn't_—)

and kept strong with the knowledge that if it wasn't he would be letting Lisa down.

He needed to focus on Lisa, he reminded himself, cleaning up after the slobs of Torchwood Three, needed to focus on her because she had it so much worse.

She had it so much worse than simply having a Cybernetic arm.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto doesn't have it in him to be surprised when is attempt to actually saw his arm off is met with… resistance.

He only sighs and thinks, _that's twenty quid down the drain_, and starts to collect the pieces of torn-up metal for disposal.

It was worth a shot, anyway.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto smiled at Gwen Cooper, letting her through the Tourist Shops back entry, and felt a frisson of relief-worry. The smell of cooling pizza churns his stomach.

This'll be enough of a distraction, for now.

Jack will be distracted by her, be distracted by cleavage and the Welsh accent he seemed to be so weak against, and Ianto would stay in the background.

Stay in the background, and everything was set up for Tanizaki to come to Cardiff, so he would use the distraction to the best of his ability, and hope, and worry, and do his best not to throw up from stress.

He doesn't know it then, but the distraction stretches on.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He would be annoyed at how easily Jack let Gwen Cooper into Torchwood if he wasn't busy with Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, and if Gwen Cooper wasn't enough of a distraction that he could've smuggled an elephant past the rest of Torchwood Three without comment. Because Gwen Cooper brings inexperience, and unleashes a Sex Mist, and fiddles with alien machinery like it's a child's toy, and everyone is scrambling to do their own jobs on top of making sure she didn't get anyone killed.

It's _nothing_ to get Tanizaki in.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

"Remarkable," Tanizaki says, reverent, "absolutely remarkable…"

After the initial denial—"This is not possible!" "This is Lisa."—Tanizaki had started his… examination.

Ianto wasn't comforted by the fact that Tanizaki obviously saw Lisa as a science project. Didn't like the way he looked like he wanted more to see how he could get it to complete the process than to reverse it… but he'd told Ianto about reverse engineering. Told Ianto that it taught him much more about an unknown project than completing it. "Her," he corrected him.

"Tell me… what happened? How did you find her?"

Ianto swallowed, and his gloved hand came up to his throat to rub, slightly. He pushed it down.

"She… worked for Torchwood London. It was the, uh, end of the Battle of Canary Warf, and the Cybermen realized that they needed more soldiers… fast. So they started converting whole bodies. Rather than transferring just the brain." He swallowed again.

"They used Earth Technology… They found their way into one of the Archives storage floors. Started using… started using what was on hand." He couldn't help but choke out a laugh at that. On _Hand_. Right.

"I found where Lisa had been taken to. To, uh, they had to. Right. They had already… They had already s-started on her and. I couldn't. I just." Ianto swallow again, mouth dry, and tried to organize his thoughts. He could hear the screams, still, felt the phantom ache in his throat from when he was screaming himself, and felt the ache in his shoulder where…

Right.

Tanizaki was looking at him. Ianto tried for a smile. Felt it probably fell short, more of a rictus.

"Right, um. I think you should… well, you should know that it wasn't just Lisa. It wasn't…" Ianto took a breath, and started undoing the clasp at his wrist keeping his glove from slipping. "It wasn't just Lisa. I… got caught. Looking for Lisa. But by then I had… Okay, they had less time for me… but they did something, _looked_ inside my head, and apparently they thought I was good for an upgrade, and started on me, but by then I had…"

Ianto didn't know why it was so hard to get out. So hard to get out _I lost my arm_ to this man, when he was there to _help_—

He dimly realized that his hand was shaking, making it more difficult to remove his glove, but by then Tanizaki had seen the flash of metal and gasped. Rushed back around Lisa's equipment and held his hands around Ianto's wrist, reverential.

"It's…" Tanizaki seemed a loss for words.

Ianto smiled a humorless grin.

"Yeah. I know." But he didn't think Tanizaki quite got it.

How could he? How could anyone get it? He'd lost his arm—had it _vaporized_ clean off—and hadn't even had the time to mourn it, to fully comprehend that he was _missing a whole arm_ because he'd had Lisa to focus on.

Had Lisa to focus on then, had her to focus on now, and now he had to focus on himself, and he just didn't want to. Didn't want to, and didn't want to, and didn't want to…

His smile turned brittle.

"Daleks took my arm, and Cybermen gave me a new one." Forced it on him. Cannibalized a box of unidentified scraps into a limb, and attached it to the cauterized _lump_—

The words were bitter on his tongue, but Tanizaki let out a shaky breath. Awed.

"May I see—"

"You should be focusing on Lisa." He cuts him off.

"Yes, yes, but if I can just see—to compare…" his eyes were shining with wonder. Ianto could understand how this would be huge to someone like Tanizaki, huge to the study of Cybernetics… but it didn't mean he was happy about it.

Ianto started undoing the buttons of his suit jacket.

"Fine."

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

The first time Ianto has time to fully focus on his arm, it's after a whirlwind of thoughts and mindless action. It's after knowing he had to hide his arm; pulling the coat off the body of Rodger Thomas, knowing he had to hide Lisa and keep her alive; listening to her instructions between screams, both hers and his own…

So when he makes it to a shower, he mindlessly undresses and doesn't register what he sees in the mirror. The blood and dust and sweat turn his skin scaly, his shoulder swollen an angry red beneath, and he doesn't see, doesn't know what to do with the sight of a shining metal arm attached to himself.

Dully, as he stared, the ache registers to him. The feeling of cauterized flesh pressed against skin-warmed metal. The new and horrifying ache in each movement, where it feels like the metal is encasing the stump of bone left in is arm.

A choked sob escapes him, because his arm—

He doesn't even register the fact that his other arm—his only arm—comes up to claw at the already scraped and raw skin of his shoulder, nails digging into the place where flesh and metal meet, digging, clawing—

_Get it off get it off get it __**off**__—_

Until his hand is being wrenched away.

A scream shudders it's way up his throat, but dies before it can fully form, because his arm—the arm—is holding him back. It's moving on its own. It's holding his wrist firmly away from his shoulder, effortlessly, and no matter how Ianto squirmed, he couldn't get free. He can't find the air to breathe.

_There's not enough air_, he thinks desperately. _The arm is taking all the air from the room,_ he thinks, horrified.

His gorge rises, and his hand is free to keep him from bashing his head against the edge of the toilet as he empties what's left of his stomach.

Retches again when he catches sight of the metal hand clutching the edge of the bowl, a mirror image to his own on the left save for the cracks in the porcelain, and tries to breath through his panic attack.

Shaking so hard his teeth were rattling, Ianto tries to calm down, tries to _calm the fuck down already_, and clenches his eyes shut.

Takes a deep, shuddery breath.

Opens his eyes.

Clenches his hand against the edge of the bowl—

And flinches when the action is repeated by the mechanical—the _cybernetic_ arm, and sends cracks straight through the porcelain.

Water starts dribbling onto the floor, and he hurries to get up, shock warring with confusion and horror.

Tries to move the arm, flex the fingers…

Doesn't know if he should be more or less horrified when the limb responds.

His gorge rises again, but there's nothing left in his stomach, so he's left dry heaving into the sink. He makes a desperate grab for his shoulder again—is intercepted before he can reach. By the arm. His shoulder burns and aches, the skin all around where _his_ arm used to be swollen and tender and bleeding.

He doesn't know what to do.

Wants to go and talk to Lisa, have Lisa tell him what the fuck he was supposed to do now like it was yet more instructions on how to turn a conversion machine into life support, but she was unconscious, and he—

Well.

He was left staring at hic cybernetic arm. The one that did what he wanted most of the time… so long as he didn't try to remove it.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Tanizaki is delicate and professional as he examines where the metal arm joins his shoulder, prodding the ropey and still delicate scarring surrounding the area, and bends the arm at all it's various joints.

Ianto sighs.

He thought that maybe if he hadn't found the numerous physical therapy exercises to do online, it would have hurt much more than the dull ache the prodding produced.

He sighed again.

He supposes he's lucky that his arm doesn't actually look like a Cyberman's arm—convenient because he didn't think an arm like that would fit under any sort of jacket, never mind his suits, but it didn't make him like looking at it any more.

He supposes, too, that the arm could be considered attractive…

He could see the appeal of all that sleek metal, the perpetual shine…

"These joints are amazing," Tanizaki breathed, holding his hand. He curled and uncurled his fingers, looking at the sweeps of metal and squeezing along each joint.

"Simply astounding… This is so different form what I saw from the footage…"

"From what I understand, underneath all the metal, the Cybermen have a nervous system of a sort, transferred from when they were human… my arm was already, ah, _gone_, so they had to do things differently… I don't actually know why they were focusing so much on getting me a new arm, rather than—rather than doing what they did to Lisa." It was a thought that bugged him more than having a cybernetic arm did… he couldn't quite shake the fear that maybe the arm was just biding its time to start another conversion unit. And not one cannibalized into a life support system like the one Lisa's hooked up to, either. Maybe it had hidden programming. Ianto didn't know… there was nothing showing what was underneath the layers of metal, no ports or places to plug anything in. There also wasn't any sort of weapon as far as he could see; even the tips of the fingers had only vague indentations for 'nails'. They were only vaguely sharp.

He looked over Tanizaki's head to meet Lisa's eyes. They were slightly clouded from the medicinal cocktail keeping her from being in pain, but she answered his wavering smile with one of her own.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Of course, it's when things are looking their best when things turn the worst.

After looking over Ianto, Tanizaki had poked and prodded and tweaked at both Lisa and the machinery keeping her alive. To Ianto it had reminded him sharply of the teachers who used to fiddle at his and his classmates science projects in order to see how well it worked, but Lisa had given him a reassuring glance.

The questions Tanizaki had asked her had made Ianto uncomfortable, made his stomach seize up with nausea and remembrance, had made his arm shift restlessly at his side…

It had leapt onto Tanizakis arm when he'd gone to pull her off the life support system, and while his delight in the involuntary motion and the steel grip around his arm was obvious on his face, his confidence in his work was what made Ianto pry the metal fingers loose.

(He said pry, but it was only because saying that he thought that he would have to pry them off, and had them respond made him think that the arm responded to what he wanted—those thoughts were dangerous ones. He couldn't forget that the arm did things on its own.)

"You know I'll likely kill you if you let her die," he felt he should warn.

Tanizaki paused, and gave him a look. Glanced down at his arm with a small smile quirking his lips.

"I can believe it. If _you_ don't manage it, _that_ certainly will."

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Turns out neither Ianto nor his cybernetic arm kill Tanizaki. Lisa does.

(…after trying to convert him. Ianto doesn't think on this. Because she wouldn't do that. Lisa _wouldn't do that_.)

He stares at Jack, hurting and aching and so full of murderous rage everything is turning into one big thumping noise.

He would not kill her. He would not kill Lisa.

He'd had a horrible moment of conflict, where he'd been worried about Myfanwy, worried about Lisa, worried about Myfanwy— how many times had he distracted Lisa from her pain with tales of looking after a Pteranodon? How many times had Lisa teased him about naming said dinosaur after a woman with an amazing voice, when she could hear her screeches from the bowels of Torchwood Three?

He couldn't think.

He couldn't think, and he hurt.

He had had such a phantom ache in his entire arm, in the entire cybernetic arm, that he'd struggled like he had a broken arm. He struggled with one arm limp. When the lift had stopped, the hurt in his shoulder and all along his arm (the one that wasn't actually there, so why did it hurt—)was nothing compared to the gaping wound where his heart was supposed to be.

He hates that his idea of training Myfanwy to identify her food via a specific sauce had been used against Lisa.

When Tosh says they can get back in he doesn't think, doesn't think anything, doesn't think that it's true, doesn't think that nothing, no one could survive an attack like that.

He doesn't know what he's doing when he grabs the gun, doesn't care if it was him or the arm grabbing it up, can't even muster up the thought that he'd probably be more deadly if he used the hand rather that the gun, because he can't—he can't—

"I have nothing left to lose." Gwen doesn't understand that, not when she thinks that anything done right now could be _stupid_.

"There's always something left to lose."

His hand tightens on the gun, and he can feel metal giving under the pressure, can feel the leather of his glove creaking from the strain… the gun probably wouldn't fire bullets anymore.

It's a relief and a tragedy.

He wants to beat Jacks face in.

He thinks about just whipping his glove off, see if they'd give up on him like they did Lisa. See if they'd change their minds about Lisa if they saw…

But there was no time for possibilities. He trains the probably useless gun on Jack.

"I'm going back in to save her. Anybody tries to stop me, I'll shoot them." Maybe. Or maybe something worse.

Gwen moves and he automatically jerks the gun around to face her, finger steady on the trigger, and Jack moves.

Grabs the gun, twists his arm—tries, because Ianto is already moving, trying to turn into the open doorway, except Jack grabs his other arm and twists it up behind his back.

Perhaps he should have let him grab his right arm, his cybernetic arm, because there was no way Jack could have held him if he did.

As it is, he winces into the press of the door frame, and glares back at Jack. Curses his arm.

A week ago it had moved and nearly broke a barista's arm for nearly spilling hot coffee on him, and what was it doing now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It wasn't responding.

It was the first time he'd ever felt like he didn't have his arm.

"You make a threat like that you better be prepared to follow through."

In any other situation, Ianto would have rolled his eyes and taken it as one more innuendo filled line.

Instead, he can see the barrel in the corner of his eye, and hear the tick of his pocketwatch.

Time is running out.

He had to save Lisa.

He thinks this as Jack shoves him around and threatens him, threatens him like an immature frat boy at initiation, and he feels a warped calm settle over his nerves.

Tries to say that Ianto's loyalty was with _them_ now.

That's not his call to make.

Jack orders him to kill Lisa.

That's not his call, either.

"You can't make me." He almost wants to smile, except he doesn't know how any more.

"You like to think you're a hero," he says instead, "but you're the biggest monster of all."

He doesn't even know what his face is doing any more, just feels a vicious satisfaction at how his words obviously effect Jack—he thinks it's the first time he's seen Jack effected by anything. No flirts or innuendo here, Jack.

Because the words were said.

Monster.

He almost wants to laugh, that _he_ was the one with a cybernetic arm and _he_ was the one name calling… almost, but can't remember how.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ten minutes.

Jack gave him ten minutes, and a most likely useless gun.

He wasn't worried about the gun, but he was very conscious of the time limit. He had ten minutes before Torchwood came in and—

He had to save Lisa in less than ten minutes.

When he gets inside he looks about at the scattered equipment, at the boxes and—wait, was that pizza? He hadn't...

(Oh no.)

Myfanwy called from up above, and he wants to check on her, except—

Lisa.

And… the pizza boxes. He caught a whiff of cheese, tomato, and garlic, still warm…

(Oh no, no, no...)

Alarms are blaring, lights flashing, and he has… roughly seven minutes.

He runs.

"Lisa! Lisa!"

His heart nearly stops when he sees her, on the ground, the blood and alarms and stillness of her making him think back, makes him think back to his nightmares where he finds Lisa at Canary Warf, not screaming… not screaming because she's….

(Dead.)

He doesn't remember anything between then and when he's at her side, blank eyes staring up at him, blood on his hands…

Its her blood on his hands, her blood, and he can't, he can't, he can't…

"…Ianto?"

He's up with the useless gun in hand immediately, because it's not Tosh or Gwen who's speaking, and he's _not fucking letting anyone near Lisa_, not like this.

Not like this.

He can barely breath through the choking pressure in his throat, arm steady as he listens to Not-Lisa's voice speak the same way Lisa did, speak her memories like they were little tokens that came along with your id, speak like she hadn't just killed a girl and taken her body…

He lets himself hug her once.

Hug Not-Lisa, and breath into hair Lisa never kept that long, breath in her Not-Lisa scent, bend down a little bit farther than he would have for Lisa, Lisa, Lisa…

It's Lisa's expression of confusion that looks back at him as he steps back, brings the gun back up, until his vision blurs from tears and he wants to shout at her to _give Lisa back_…

He pulls the trigger, and nothing happens.

It doesn't even click.

There's a hole in his chest and it's going to swallow him whole, he has to turns away from her, rub the tears from his eyes and curse at himself, curse at _fucking Cybermen_, curse at Tanizaki, curse that leather _doesn't fucking work_ to clean up tears…

"We can be upgraded… together…" Not-Lisa—_never_ Lisa—says, appeals.

_Upgraded._

Bile climbs to the back of his throat.

The shots that come behind him are totally unexpected, shocking, appalling, and though it was never Lisa he can't help but anguish that she's dead.

He looks at Torchwood, Gwen's wide eyed astonishment, Owen's pitying glance, Tosh not even looking—trying to give him some illusion of privacy for his grief, likely…

Jack.

Fucking Jack.

Ianto wants to punch him again, this time with his right fucking arm, this time bash his stupid fucking face in until he can't look at anything ever again, let alone give Ianto that steady '_it had to be done_' bullshit of a look.

He thinks that this man, this is the only person in the entire world he wants dead. Only person in the world he has ever wanted dead.

And his stupid fucking homicidal arm is still at his side.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He has three weeks to 'get his shit together'; three weeks set to mourn before he was expected back at work.

Expected to work under Jack Harkness.

Walking in the door is as conspicuous as it ever is, alarms blazing, the cage doors closing behind him never before seeming so symbolic…

He looks up and sees Jack, and Gwen beside him.

He wondered if Jack had fucked her yet.

He wondered if she'd even broken up with her boyfriend before doing it.

Jack blinks and nods to him.

After three weeks suspension, Ianto doesn't have any feelings left, so he turns and starts cleaning. It isn't as bad as he'd have thought…

A slow, low burn in his gut has him thinking, has him thinking that Jack probably thinks that he has… what was it he'd said? That Ianto's loyalty is to them now?

Jack probably thought he had it now.

Probably thought that because Ianto had come back, that he was loyal to Torchwood now, loyal to Jack.

He probably hadn't thought about the fact that Ianto had his reason for living wrenched from him… probably didn't realize that for three weeks Ianto had bounced from one extreme to another.

He'd raged; he'd cried, he'd contemplated suicide; he'd contemplated murder, he'd felt all degrees of guilt and shame…

He'd had Lisa on life support for such a long time, and for her to end up dead in the end. Dead, and turned into some… Cyberman wannabe. A Cyberwoman. In the end she wasn't even Lisa any more…

And he couldn't even put her out of her misery.

He'd tried to shoot her. He'd tried to shoot Lis—not-Lisa. It was unforgivable. More so than the fact that the gun…

The gun didn't work. He knew it wouldn't… he'd tried to shoot her anyway.

Tried, and failed. Both were bad, but one was infinitely worse.

It wasn't Lisa anymore, and yet he'd still….

Instead Jack had.

He had no doubt that the first bullet was Jacks.

Did he think that had earned him Ianto's loyalty? Or perhaps he'd thought he'd had it after performing CPR on him? Is that why he'd tried to force Ianto's hand?

_I saved your life; now go kill your girlfriend. _

_I saved your life; now go kill the woman you were planning on proposing to._

_I saved your life; now go kill your reason for living._

Ianto felt numb. He didn't…

He didn't know what to do anymore.

He'd hated and raged at Jack for so long, for _three fucking weeks_, and he'd… he'd raged so much that he broke through to the other side.

—No, not the other side…

He'd reached some sort of limbo.

He didn't know if he should be angry or grateful.

He didn't know if he loved or hated him.

He didn't know if he even had enough of a clear thought of him to have any sort of feeling for him one way or another.

He very little left of a personal life, leaving Torchwood to take up more space…

All that he really had to himself, now, was his sister Rhi and…

Well.

His hands clenched.

He only had one thing left to hide…

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_*Gasp!* What will happen when his arm is revealed…?_

_:D_

_So yes, another story started, this time with a cyber-armed Ianto, and this is part of my Camp Nanowrimo Challenge… Woo! I'm at 10569 words total, over like 6 stories! (Thank RandomPersonOfDoom for that. Thanks friend. -_-;;)_

_For those waiting on Too Tired To Wink (sequel to And I Wake Up), I apologize, but the last couple of pages have been difficult! Like, wow what was I thinking, why do I have to have this in the story, but wait, I wrote so much of it now I have to finish writing this..._

_These are the sorts of things I'm thinking of._

_This is what happens when you've got a 20 year old writing pregnancy and labor._

_*shakes fist* Whyyyyyyyyy Gwen? Whyyyyyyy?_

_Also, Ianto's such a dramatic fuck it's amazing and sad._

_More to come, and though I'm not going to do a 10k/chapter thing for this, I think that since I got this to about 5k that'll be how long each chapter is for this._

_Hope you enjoyed, and wowza the sadness and angsting at the end of this._

_Thanks to my dearest Random Person of Doom for dealing with my equally random idea jumping and OMG what-ifs._


	2. Camping

**Summary: Daleks vaporized his arm. Cybermen gave him a new one. Somehow, Ianto Jones survives.**

_So, I would like to mention now that unless someone comes out with an actual timeline for these episodes (and I mean that as actual _time_), I'm just going to take things in a wibbly-wobbly fashion. _

_So while the time between each episode may be different to you, depending on your headcanon, I don't particularly have a timeline headcanon myself so I'm being flexible here. _

_I'm glad you've all been enjoying this so far, and in response to the anonymous Guest who commented, yes, this Ianto is a bit entitled seeming, but I think that's explainable, seeing as how not only does he have to deal with the sh*t of Lisa's situation, he also has to deal with trying to cope with having lost an arm, had it forcibly replaced, and being stressed hiding his arm and Lisa while trying to find a 'cure'. Also, glad you're enjoying my AIWU and T3W 'verse, and thanks to a friend of mine and her insane ability to gave me a dozen prompts, I'm likely going to be posting more stories in the near future… _

_*shakes fist*_

_Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 2

When Ianto contemplated how he would be found out—because he _would_, eventually be found out—he did not envision it like this.

Then, of course, he never really contemplated cannibals in his future, so he supposed he should be giving himself some slack.

He wished the ropes that bound his hands had some slack to them.

His hand was losing circulation—the give of having two flesh wrists bound being restricted to the one was… unfortunate.

Tosh stared back at him from the other side of the room—hovel thing, really—eyes wide and terrified.

For the moment, it was because of the bat one of the men was hefting.

Ianto thought that in another moment, when the man tried to bludgeon Ianto with it, the fear in her eyes would have to do with Ianto, hah, _single handedly_ killing their captors.

Single Handedly.

Not necessarily with one arm behind his back, but the idea was still there.

He had the vain hope that perhaps the arm would find a more… _discrete_ way of violently protecting him, but he might as well be wishing to not be in this situation at all.

It would be more likely to happen, anyway…

If he was honest with himself, and he might as well be, he could admit that he was surprised he'd lasted this long.

After… well, after Lisa he'd figured he'd last maybe a week if he was careful, but instead here he was a good two months and a band of Faeries later… still alive, still _not_ locked up, still… whatever.

Now, not so much.

_This… this is why I was happy not going out into the field. This is why._

After being bludgeoned from behind, he'd woken up in a dark space with Tosh… Tosh was still out of it, and he hadn't been tied up. He remembered this time fondly.

He'd never thought about it before, but he rather liked not being tied up.

He'd pulled off his left glove and felt the back of his head, pressing gingerly at the knot, and when he heard Tosh stirring pulled his glove back on.

He was stained and dirty but he wouldn't be wandering around with only one glove on.

(that sort of thing had people asking things like 'why do you only have one glove on?' and 'what happened to your hand?')

"You know… I never liked camping."

And he didn't. Lisa had, which was why he knew so much about it, but it wasn't something he enjoyed.

You could never brew a good cup of coffee 'out in the bush'.

Tosh looked around, and he told her they'd taken the guns…

He'd been awake a while longer than she had, and had all that time to look around their makeshift cell.

Solid doors that in any other situation he would admire for their sturdiness, too-small windows, and no real way of getting out. No way of lighting up the place, either.

Of course, even as he thought this Tosh pulled out a small torch from her pants leg.

Ianto wondered if she'd been a girl scout.

Brought up his mental file on her… no, no, she hadn't.

He brought it up again when she says that she hasn't yet found a cell she couldn't get out of, remembering the notes UNIT had made on her while she was imprisoned, and felt cautiously optimistic.

He'd still prefer she answer his question on their chances of rescue, all the same, but if he had to be stuck in a cell with someone he'd prefer it be with Tosh…

Or Jack, but that was because Jack had a way of slipping out of troublesome situations.

But Tosh was good, because she had more of a reason than anyone to make sure she wouldn't be helplessly stuck in a cell ever again, and that was good.

Sad, but good.

She asked him to try to get a light to work—and oh, thanks, he hadn't thought of doing that, but he decided to give it another try all the same.

Commenting on the fact that she and the rest of Torchwood seem to be addicted to being in situations like this—situations where things get out of control, where there's danger spilling over the horizon, the look of satisfied enjoyment in their eyes…

He wondered if any of them would enjoy having a cybernetic arm.

He considered who, exactly, he was trapped with, and couldn't help but laugh.

It broke some of the tension between them, and Ianto laughed again that she should have had that suspect cheeseburger, earlier.

And then there was no more laughing, because shoes should never seem so foreboding.

Thinking back on it now, it's almost funny how scary all the shoes had been, considering now there was… well, _cannibals_.

They might be aliens who look like humans, but—_cannibals_.

_Cannibal hicks. _

It probably wasn't wise, but a hysterical laugh bubbled out of him, because gods if he could have a choice of what kind of person killed and ate him, he'd prefer someone like Hannibal Lecter over these people…

At least then he'd know he wouldn't be fried up like bacon, or, or—

He couldn't think of anything else.

He knew he'd eaten other things than bacon, but that was the only thing that came to mind.

He supposed there were worse things, but—_bacon_?

And, if he weren't turned into bacon, he'd still be locked up after this, because unless they knocked out or killed Tosh before they came after him, he wouldn't be getting out of here without the promise of being locked up.

He looked at Tosh again, and thought how much he'd really like her not to die. They weren't exactly friends—Ianto wasn't friends with _anyone_ in Torchwood—but he didn't want her to die.

He looked to the side, where the blonde woman from before was, and thought that he really wouldn't mind if _she_ died…

He was still annoyed at himself for falling for her _I'm a victim too_ routine.

So, when Big And Ugly turns to him, he smiles his biggest, fakest smile, and takes some satisfaction in head-butting him.

It hurts—fuck, it hurts, but he's distracted, and maybe if they run fast enough he won't end up alive and locked up after this.

It was still the preferred option to dead and eaten, but he was doing his best to stay optimistic.

That was hard to do when their escape plan gets him a punch in the face.

And then kicked in the kidne—

It feels like his arm is going to be ripped from its socket, like his hand is going to be ripped off before that, and he's wrenched around.

He feels it, vaguely, in his shoulder when the kick lands on his arm, but the three-second wrenching in his arm earlier hurts more.

His hand gets a gentle pat on it, and it's startling to realize that his arm—the cybernetic one—intentionally moved him so he would get the least damage.

He's shocked enough that he doesn't move when the but of the gun comes down on his face, and he only has a split moment to be thankful that at least Tosh got away.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Danger. _

_Danger. _

_Danger._

_Danger._

_Must Defend._

_Protective Measures:_

_Calculating…_

_Calculations Finished._

_Recalibrating Survival Mode._

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He keeps that feeling of being thankful in mind as his face is being beaten in.

He'd like to keep in mind that at least the worst of it is happening to his face, except that some kicks and beatings hit elsewhere.

His torso is fine for the most part—he didn't know he could squirm like this until his own arm was twisting and wrenching him into each position…

He's worried about his legs, as he can only redirect the hits so much to his arm, but it's getting harder and harder to focus on the positive. There's only so much his head and face can take before things stop making sense.

Stop making sense, like why wasn't his arm getting him out of this situation already? Why was it just redirecting 80% of the blows, when it could get him away from 100% of them?

He'd understood the reason earlier, earlier when his head wasn't aching, when he didn't just want to sit down and sleep… something about how if Tosh escaped, the rest of Torchwood would come to the rescue. If Tosh escaped, and he had to believe that she did, Tosh was clever like that, she was really lovely and he thought that perhaps he'd like to be friends later, maybe, possibly, especially if she got the rest of Torchwood here to stop all this, because then she would be the cleverest and most lovely woman of all time, and why was Owen such a prat to her?

Ianto didn't know, but then he didn't know lots of things.

Like why his stupid cybernetic arm wasn't getting him out of this situation.

He remembered, vaguely, that if he revealed his arm he was likely going to be locked up if he wasn't shot execution style, but really, what was wrong with being locked up?

It had a number of good points going for it, certainly, like not being beaten, like not feeling like his head would explode into one big bruise, like… like….

Well, he'd really like it if they'd stop beating him.

Being locked up, he'd likely also get some ice for his aching face, and he wouldn't be thrown to the hard ground like he is right—

_Oof._

He'd also like the gag out of his mouth, it'd likely be easier to breath without it, easier to catch the breath that was just punched out of him.

Oh, the ground, it was rather nice, he'd like to sleep now.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Assessing Condition:_

_Calculating…_

_Calculations Complete. _

_Unsatisfactory._

_Assessing Surroundings:_

_Calculating…_

_Calculations Complete._

_Results:_

_Positive. _

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

"What have you done to Ianto?"

The sound of his name rouses him, damn it all, and he just wants to sleep.

This headache is worse than any hangover, it's worse than anything imaginable, and Big and Ugly needs to take a bath because the stink of him is making all the bad things worse.

He's making things even more worse with the cleaver he's holding against his throat.

His eyes skim over the members of Torchwood, thinking _oh, how nice of them to show up to see him killed._

_Oh, how nice of them to take advantage of Tosh escaping to get caught themselves. _

_Oh, it was actually nice of them to ask after him_… he thinks this last bit honestly, because even through the thick film separating him from reality, he'd heard the frightened concern in their voices. The noise of alarm from Owen was probably due to the fact that Ianto was likely looking like one big bruise, the Doctor in him taking it all in, but the concern was still there.

It was nice.

Owen was still a prat.

The hug from Gwen was nice, but _painfulpainfulpainful_, and likely less painful than if he'd been thrown to the ground again.

He hopes she doesn't feel the hard metal of his arm.

It would really suck if even after keeping his arm hidden after all this time, he was still found out.

And from a hug.

Gods, that would be embarrassing…

And then Jack breaks through the wall with a tractor, guns blazing, and he'd laugh if his ribs weren't bruised.

He wondered if Jack knew that he wasn't actually the leading character in an action movie…

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Later, when Ianto is avoiding Owen and trying to make it look like he's been checked out by the medics out of the ambulance, while also trying to reassure them that he was getting looked after by his teams Doctor, he catches part of Gwen's 'interrogation', and wants to shut at her for letting his teeth so close to her face. So close to her throat. He half-expects that Big and Ugly is going to bite off her ear or something equally horrible, but it doesn't happen.

That shows him for being pessimistic.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Recalibrating…_

_Reassessing…_

_New Data Extrapolated._

_Base Functions:_

_Calculating…_

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Though he wants to, and he can tell Tosh wants to, neither of them ask the other to stick around.

Neither asks the other over to their place.

Neither ask for the comfort they both need.

Instead, Ianto stops by Tesco (and ignores the looks his beaten and bruised face gets him) and gets bags and bags of ice.

The walk home is slightly lop-sided, as he holds all of his ice in his right hand (his left hand still tender and shaking), and he's never been so happy to have a full bathroom in his life.

He fills his tub with ice and water, and leaves to get his bed made up, to reset the thermostat, and starts stripping.

His shirt is entirely ruined. The dirt stains will never come out of it.

Sinking into the bath is a painful relief; bruises throbbing heat under the chill.

He cups his hands, the metal on his right still looking strange in contrast, and presses ice to his face and neck in turn.

When he can no longer stand the cold of the water, he gets out and huddles in a thick towel, pressing the now cold metal of his hand to his face again and again to keep the swelling down.

He's physically and mentally exhausted, almost falling asleep in the bath once he gets back in it, but his thoughts still race in circles around his head.

Because he could've been discovered this time.

It was a very close thing.

He could have died.

That was also a very close thing.

He could have been discovered, and _then_ killed.

With the way Jack was strutting around, doling out bullets like they were party favors, that was a very likely thing to happen…

If he'd been discovered.

But he hadn't.

He hadn't.

He hadn't.

He kept reminding himself of that, even after the ice cubes had all melted, even after he'd drained the tub and crawled into bed, even after he'd cocooned himself in blankets, and it was his last conscious thought when he finally fell asleep, shivering.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Calculating…_

_Calculations Complete. _

_Base Functions Reset._

_Initiatives Updated. _

_Vitals Noted. _

_Sleep Mode._

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_So, I hope you enjoyed that, and if you're disappointed that I'm not doing an episode/chapter, with each episode, sorry but there are some episodes where Ianto just isn't a big part of things, where he's mostly left to his own devices, so yeah. Feel like I should be saying more on this, but after discovering that Ianto's actually a badass, and not just a butler who has great one-liners, re-watching the series brings attention to the fact that for the first while he really *isn't* that big of a character. _

_I like him, but he's not really a big part of season 1. I know, sadness :C_

_I'm working on all my other stories at the moment, or at least all the ones I've been working on the past two years, and while I know it's difficult, please have patience. _

_Also please stop shouting at me to update, it's making me nervous when that's all you have to say. :S_

_Next chapter should be up relatively soon, because if you didn't know that Camp Nano is happening, well, it is (similar to NaNoWriMo, so….), and I'm WAAAAAY behind. _

_So yeah, rewatching a great deal of Torchwood, and writing, and look forward to more :)_

_RandomPersonOfDoom, I still curse you giving me so many prompts. _

_*shakes fist__*_


	3. Mary

**Summary: Daleks vaporized his arm. Cybermen gave him a new one. Somehow, Ianto Jones survives.**

_Apologies now for shortness, and also for… well, actually, I'll leave that for you to figure out. _

_Enjoy!_

Chapter 3

Ianto knows the exact moment that he suspects Tosh of being up to something, because in that moment he wonders to himself if he'd have noticed at all if he weren't hyperaware of how he held himself.

If he weren't entirely conscious of how he held his arm in comparison to the rest of his body.

Because if he weren't, he didn't think he'd notice the fact that immediately after he comes through the door to look after the Tourist station, Tosh was hiding her arm behind her back. And trying to make it look casual.

Trying and, probably to everyone else, succeeding…

Except Ianto had been practicing _not_ hiding his arm behind his back enough that he could see that she wasn't actually holding her hand that way back casually.

"… Are you alright?" He asks, instead of his usual 'Good Morning.'

"Oh, well…. Yes, yes! I'm fine. Yes, I'll just, er…" she gestured past him, and Ianto moved out of her way.

Tosh and he were… sort of friends now, made so with a shared experience with Cannibals, after a few nights drinking with each other, and though he knew that Tosh was a bad liar in general, he now knew that she was an even worse liar when it came to people she felt friendly with.

A part of him admired her for it.

That same part made him feel horribly guilty over keeping secrets.

And thinking of secrets made him think about Lisa, and that came with a whole slew of feelings he couldn't quite handle…

So instead of thinking on it, on Tosh, he instead focuses on tidying the Tourist office.

He didn't know why it actually needed it, didn't understand how it could get so dirty when the tourist office wasn't open enough to get more than two or three lost families wandering in in a month…

Truly, some things baffle the mind.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Detecting Lowered Levels of Noradrenalin…_

_Calculating…_

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto looked up when Tosh jerked, pulling his own thoughts back to the present.

She made eye contact for half a moment before looking wildly around, and Ianto wondered if she was expecting someone else to be there.

"You alright Tosh?"

"Yes, I'm, ah… is… there someone else around? Did… did Jack bring someone in?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. Not that he knew of…

And he'd certainly know about it—everyone would, what with that damnable buzzer over the door… the sound brought to mind bank robberies and the general feeling of _oops! I'm not supposed to be here!_ A ridiculous feeling for when you come into work.

He shook his head, and Tosh laughed… a bit more than was merited for the situation, but at least she seemed a more relaxed. A little less manic.

He shook his head, and went to o get coffee for everyone.

He thought he should be worried that being concerned for people was tiring for him now…

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Calculation Complete._

_Nourishment Needed._

_Procure High-Sucrose Items and Caffeinated Beverage._

_Procuring…_

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Tosh looked at him, wide eyed again when he brought out a tray holding all their coffee mugs, but he was distracted from thinking on it when, after he'd put the tray down and let the rest of the team descend on their mugs, his hand went to his own without his meaning to.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Procured. _

_Drink Caffeinated Beverage._

_Drink Now. _

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

It then pulled his mug to his face abruptly, and he had to jerk to keep hot coffee from spilling over himself.

He didn't notice Tosh pulling back from sipping from her own mug and looking at it with suspicion, because he was busy trying to look casual while forcing his arm down.

It was hot, and he didn't know why his arm was doing this _now_, why it was doing this in front of _the entire fucking team_.

"Something wrong with your arm, Tea Boy?"

Ianto looked up at Owen and smiled, hoping he was getting across oh, nothing to see here. He looked down at how he was holding his arm—it looked a bit like he was holding it in pain.

"Oh, I, ah, strained it. A bit. Moving… cabinets in the Archives. Nothing wrong."

He carefully pulled his mug into his left hand, and casually brought it up to sip.

He didn't notice that Tosh had taken a sip at the same time, busy with flexing his free hand for show. Owen scoffed.

"Yeah, well, you might get a better grip if you took off those gloves of yours once in a while…"

Ianto raised his eyebrows at Owen.

"Of course… and then I can leave greasy fingerprints everywhere like you do."

"Oh, sod off—"

"I don't know what you're complaining about Owen," a voice said rom above. Jack grinned at Ianto, leaning over the railing. "I like it…"

"I'll go get the Sexual Harassment forms out again, shall I, Sir?"

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto wondered at his arm trying to force coffee on him, trying to figure out what, exactly was up with it, when not even half an hour later it tries to shove a cookie in his face.

He's lucky no one was around to see it, as he hadn't been expecting it at all and as a result got cookie crumbs smeared on his cheek.

He's dusting crumbs away with his handkerchief when he hears a noise behind him.

Tosh is in the doorway, empty mu in hand, and it's automatic to smile.

"Looking for a refill?"

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Providers Noradrenalin Levels At Optimal Percentages._

_Note:_

_Caffeine Takes 45.38 Minutes To Effect Systems._

_Note Saved._

_Calculating Adaptive Levels…_

_Estimated Time Of Effect:_

_Approximately 7 Hours. _

_Calculating Optimum Effects Of Caffeine On Systems…_

_Set Programs To Record Metabolic Progress._

_Programs Set._

_Calculations Complete. _

_Recalibrating Base Functions…_

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He takes her mug, and wonders what she could be thinking to keep that wide-eyed look about her.

She's been looking like Gwen did her first month with Torchwood, like she was expecting something strange and baffling to jump out at her any moment now.

Currently, she was giving that look to the coffee machine.

He hands over her (decaffeinated) coffee after doctoring it, and pauses.

"You… aren't still annoyed that you can't work the coffee machine, are you?"

He wonders if the wide-eyed look she was giving the machine was because she'd thought of something that would allow her to use the oddly finicky machine… Ianto had tried to teach her how to use the machine, but despite her proficiency with technology—particularly alien technology—the coffee maker was a blind spot.

An obvious one, one that she occasionally got annoyed enough to try and tackle…

Ianto always made sure he was there to make sure she didn't accidentally break the thing.

It was unlikely, but…

She jerked.

"Oh, no! No, I was just wondering… have you…" she trailed off, frowning.

"Have you ever noticed anything… odd about the coffee machine?"

Ianto thought about it, but shook his head.

Aside from it being rather complex for a coffee maker, even by professional standards, it was simply the most-used alien artifact in Torchwood Three…

It was a secret wish of Ianto's to one day get to visit/meet the aliens who brought about this amazing machine, because, as silly a thought it was, if there was ever an alien he'd love to sit down for a chat with, it would be them.

He'd love to discuss what else they knew about brewing coffee… aside from knowing how to make a coffee maker that must be some sort of sentient for how perfectly it made each batch.

"No, nothing in particular. Why?"

Tosh looked at him for a moment longer, grim faced, before shaking her head and bidding him farewell.

Ianto shook his head.

Not being able to work the coffee machine must really be bothering her.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto wants to hit himself.

He wants to hit himself, and then just—just drown his feelings in vodka and whiskey until he can deal with thinking about Lisa, because if he hadn't been avoiding thinking about her, he wouldn't have dismissed Tosh's jumpiness.

He should know the signs of hiding a significant other.

He should know the signs of hiding something possibly troubling form the team.

He should know what it looked like when just about all the fucking signs were in front of him.

Instead, he'd avoided thinking about anything beyond coffee and cleaning and (non-cybernetic) aliens, and now it was very likely that he'd be locked up.

Because what were the chances that Tosh hadn't heard him thinking about—

No, don't think. It was a slight chance, but—

No.

He just needed to talk to Tosh before—

He was partially hidden, back near the green room, and he could see just about everything.

He wants to jerk forward when the blond woman, Mary, held what he assumed was a knife to Tosh's throat…

He feels something like pity breaking through his panic, because Tosh deserved so much more than to fall in love with a prick with a doctorate, and a murderous, manipulative, telepathic alien.

But then panic takes over again, because if he didn't talk to her first, she'd likely feel duty-bound to talk to Jack, same as she felt responsible enough to stop that man from killing his family… just like she felt responsible for Mary's safety, despite the fact that she was, in fact, a murderous, manipulative, telepathic alien.

He's torn between outrage and understanding and affection and fear—actually, he was feeling all that, all tinged with panic and a desperate urge to just run away.

And while he's busy feeling all that, Jack of course steps in to save the day.

He was reminded exactly how brutal Jack could be, how cold, how heartless he could be, when he sends Mary to her death.

Ianto doesn't feel sorry for her, but instead feels sorry for Tosh.

Misplaced or not, she'd loved Mary…

And if there was one thing both Ianto and Tosh shared, it was their tendency to put all their might into loving.

Ianto's heart ached.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Jack dismisses everyone for the night.

Ianto panics, because Tosh stays behind, and he can't decide if he wants to run as far from Cardiff as possible, or if he wants to resign himself to being locked up, or if he wants to try hoping that Tosh hadn't heard him think anything like '_oh by the way I have a cybernetic arm, and it occasionally acts on it's own, slightly homicidal urges'…_

Can't decide, can't breathe when he gets to his apartment, and doesn't remember falling asleep.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Excess Of Cortisol Detected In Provider._

_Survival Mode Initiated:_

_Protect Provider._

_Subset Guard Protocol; Level 3._

_High Alert._

_Sleep Mode Automatic Disable;_

_Code Delta Maroon Vega 35—_

_Sleep Mode To Be Implemented At Conclusion Of Survival Mode. _

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

*Crunch*

"Well that's dealt with…"

…

…

…

"Jack… There's something I should tell you… I heard…"

"Yeah?"

"Jack, I—It's something… I'm just… Jack, it's Ianto. I have to tell you—"

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Short, yes, but as I said before… I'm not doing every episode, but I am going to be focusing on Ianto, and this is an episode that didn't have much of Ianto in it, and I wrote so much of behind the scenes…_

_I dunno what I'm saying. *sigh* _

_It's 2:16 am and I had annoying people to deal with at work._

_I know I'm evil, leaving it here, but please have patience! _

_I'm working on the next chapter, which should hopefully be a bit longer than this one was (sorry for the necessity of it), and thank you to all of you for being so supportive!_

_~Doodled93~_


	4. Suzie

**Summary: Daleks vaporized his arm. Cybermen gave him a new one. Somehow, Ianto Jones survives.**

_As a note, this is now a series, and also, I wrote a short side story that's in this 'verse from the episode 'Random Shoes', and it's called __**Cyborg**__… _

_I was informed I would be mean if I posted it in this story before this chapter, so… _

_Enjoy!_

Chapter 4—Suzie

Ianto wakes up to the sound of pounding.

He doesn't know if he should be relieved that it's just the sound of his heart, rather than the sound of Jack pounding on his door.

It doesn't make his heart slow down any.

He debates not going into work, but figures if Tosh hasn't told Jack (highly improbably, but Ianto had found that being optimistic was the safer bet, these days, rather than letting pessimistic thoughts bring him into question), then he'd be making himself look suspicious not going in to work.

So he gets ready.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He isn't accosted when he comes into work, and he doesn't end up in any of the cells at all that morning…

He forces himself to look quizzically at Jack when, instead of a flirtatious grin and a leer, he's greeted with a speculative glance.

When Tosh gets in, followed by Owen, she looks at him wide eyed for one moment before busying herself at her computers.

This… this makes him pause.

He ignored Tosh hiding something once, and look where it got him.

He frowns, and heads to the kitchen to make up a batch of coffee… he should have gotten it ready for everyone before, and it was likely that Gwen would be in sooner than later, so—

"Oh, Ianto, don't bother with that today."

He pauses on the stairs, and turns.

"Sir?"

There's no flirtatious grin on his face, no sign of a joke, no hint that he was kidding, when Jack looks back ta him.

"No coffee today, Ianto."

He blinks.

He has the uncomfortable feeling that he might be gaping at Jack.

"No coffee?" he can't wrap his mind around the thought.

"_What?!"_

Owen storms up from the Autopsy bay, face red an alarmed.

"I repeat; _What_? No coffee?"

Jack nods.

"No coffee today."

"Why?" He'd be embarrassed at his voice breaking halfway through the word, except he's still stuck on '_no coffee_' and is he still dreaming? Is this a nightmare? It must be—Ianto did not want to consider Torchwood without caffeine.

He felt a headache coming on.

This had the possibility of being worse than having his arm found out…

(He knew he was being overdramatic, but—but— no coffee? Really?)

"Let's say we're trying a health kick."

"And why wasn't I consulted on this?" Owen demanded.

"Because I'm the boss and you would've said no."

"Damn right I would have said no. Because this is ridiculous—and what the fuck else is Tea-Boy going to do then, huh?"

Ianto didn't have the brainpower right then to flinch over that.

He didn't think he would have, if he did, because he did actually do more than clean up and make coffee, though that was what they saw him to the most of…

But he didn't react right then because he was thinking the exact same thing.

Later, when he looks back on this, he thinks that maybe spending the whole night worrying over being locked up in the morning, only to have _this_ be the tragedy beginning the day…

Well, it did something weird to his head.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He finds himself gravitating towards the coffee machine more than once, operating on automatic, and some part of him thinks that maybe cutting down on coffee might be good for the team…

He doesn't know if it's because the whole team's apparently going cold turkey, or because of an internal alarm clock, but he hadn't realized quite how much time he spent making coffee until he was suddenly _not_.

And Jack seemed to always be there to remind him that there's no coffee today, Ianto, either him or Tosh, and he always ends up wandering away from the kitchen feeling lost…

He gets an astonishing amount of work done, but part of that might be because he's avoiding the annoyance of a grumpy decaffeinated Owen rather than freed up time.

He'd yawning quite a bit more than he thinks he should be, and after a certain point, his arm tries jerking him into the kitchen. Towards the coffee maker.

He resists.

He can go one day without coffee.

He can.

(but only the one.)

Gwen is there to see it, and she grins tiredly at him.

"I didn't know you could be so dramatic, Ianto. Though, it's rather accurate… Owens a close second, but you're definitely the one who'd need to be wrenched away form the coffee machine."

Ianto returns the grin, and shakes his head.

"I suppose Coffee has been on my mind a lot lately… though right now it feels a bit like it's taking over everything… What I would do for an espresso shot right now…"

"You don't realize what you have 'til it's gone," is Gwen's piece of fortune-cookie wisdom to impart.

Ianto heads down the stairs, back to his Archives and the resentfully messy paperwork Owen had shoved at him an hour earlier…

He'd taken a doctors chicken scratch to a whole new level.

Neither Gwen nor Ianto noticed the look Jack and Tosh shared at their conversation.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto doesn't know if he should be relieved or worried when a call comes in for Torchwood…

He decides on worried, in this instance.

He'd be relieved at the distraction the team needed if it weren't for a gristly murder scene, with 'TORCHWOOD" written out in blood on the walls.

He's privately relieved for himself, because while they're out he has a chance to make himself that espresso shot he so dearly wanted…

He agreed with Jack that they needed to cut down on the amount of coffee the team imbibed on a daily basis, but he disagreed with how he was going about it.

If he didn't want Owen and Ianto teaming up in the most unlikely of times in a bid for caffeine, he'd allow Ianto this.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Also, by the time the team gets back, the smell of coffee will have dissipated.

He sips, breathing in the roast, and wonders when the last time he'd relaxed like this was.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Compound B-67.

Ret-Con.

When Jack asks him how many people they've given amnesia pills to, it's only because of the caffeine now in his system that he doesn't get snarky when he replies with "2008."

Owen's reaction to the news that each of the people they've ret-conned is surprising, as there was no way Jack let Owen grab a coffee while they were out. He sounds the most enthusiastic he's ever heard him, and that's including the number of times Owens been caught flirting with girls at bars and on the streets while on the Comm.

Ianto wonders if this is Owen breaking through to the other side of caffeine-depravation.

Is this what's hiding on the other side of Owen-The-Grump?

It's an amusing thought.

That the Risen Mitten is brought out again…

That's less amusing.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

The metal of the glove is uncomfortable to look at.

He checks, and rechecks the cuff of his glove while everyone else is distracted by Jack trying the Mitten, and brings out his pocket watch to time Gwen's attempt. He's somehow not surprised she gets it.

Ianto never tried it—wasn't interested in reminding anyone of the fact, either—but thinks the key to it is empathy.

Suzie, for all that she turned out to be a homicidal maniac in the end, could _feel_ for people. She could really empathize.

Gwen could, too.

"Amazing, she's a natural… 24 seconds." It's impressive.

"Give Ianto a stopwatch and he's happy."

Ianto tucks his chin, just a little, and tilts his head.

"It's the button on the top." Smirks, at Owen's snort.

Her next try: 1 minute, 5 seconds.

Very impressive.

He remembers to write it down, as no one else seems to be able to get past the fact that Suzie is apparently connected to a serial killer.

Ianto's surprised to hear her name, but he's less surprised at the connection.

He'd been the one to throw out the few Pilgrim flyers she had scattered about, and if this guy hadn't mentioned her Ianto would have been the one to bring it up.

He would have been the one to bring _her_ up.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Gwen's the one who literally brings Suzie up.

Like a Zombie.

He's morbidly fascinated by the whole process…

He wonders how Jack's reacting to this.

He's been with Torchwood longer than anyone—longest surviving member, if he was remembering correctly… he was around before Tosh and Owen, so…

He did a bit of mental math.

Yup.

Longer than 6 years. Likely longer than 7.

He made another mental note to find the paper records of Jack's time with Torchwood, later.

(He very seriously didn't think on the fact that Ianto was the second longest surviving member, currently. He was just finishing his fourth year)

But Jack had likely seen more than any one of them could imagine, and though Ianto couldn't think on an event where zombies were brought into the equation, it was still a possibility.

Still.

It's a bit of a let down.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Suzie is sullen.

Sullen Suzie.

Sullen Suzie was brought back with the Risen Mitten and the Life Knife, and Ianto really should work on his rhyming and alliteration and assonance, because apparently no one else in Torchwood could make up names for obscure alien artifacts.

He hoped they didn't find anything else that brought people back to (un)life, because he doesn't think he can figure out many more names without repeating himself in on way or another.

But Suzie is sullen, and pouty, and petulant, and self-pitying…

And he can understand getting into the mindset, because, to be fair, she _is_ dead…

But Ianto's getting really tired of her shit.

She doesn't even say 'hi' to him.

Ianto sighs, and wishes for a coffee.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Jack says no at the same time Tosh does. They seem to realize their mistake, and look at Ianto, wide eyed and, on Tosh's part, slightly guilty.

Owen looks at them both, and turns to look at Ianto.

"Is this because of you? Are they banning coffee because of you?"

Ianto frowns at Owen before turning his gaze to Tosh and Jack.

"Is… there a reason you're so against _me_ making coffee?"

It seems oddly specific.

A sudden thought.

Oh gods. They think he's going to, to poison them, or something. They think he's going to do something to the coffee.

He feels vaguely insulted.

And also confused.

How does having a cybernetic arm translate to 'I'm going to kill you by putting something in your drink', rather than 'DELETE, DELETE'?

Jack only hesitates a moment before answering.

"No. No reason. Just no coffee today Ianto."

He wonders what, exactly, Tosh told Jack.

He wonders what it could be to make Jack lie so badly.

He wonders what is calling his coffee making skills into question.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

The base is locked down, all power down, and things are all going to shit—

Why did they leave heart-on-her-sleeve-Gwen alone with the pity party that is Suzie Costello?

—And he could really use a drink.

Preferably alcoholic, but barring that it was looking like a long night.

Ianto thinks, screw it, and heads to the kitchen.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Tosh, Owen, and Jack all look grateful for the coffee, and down half of it in one go.

Ianto sips at his, sets it down, and goes to set up the water tower as a relay.

He allows himself to enjoy the shocked look Jack gives him when he says he's got a signal, and feels a small curl of pleasure at the grin Jack gives him.

_Clever._

"Nice Work Ianto… But who do we—hang on. How did you make coffee? And _why_ did you make coffee? You aren't allowed—no, wait, I'm more interested in how. We don't have power! How did you make coffee Ianto?"

He shrugged.

"The coffee machine is always on. Even when we turn off power for updates and repairs… I always supposed that there was a back-up energy source somewhere inside of it."

He doesn't know what's happening to Jack's expression, but he doesn't look nearly as pleased.

Tosh looks worried, and keeps darting nervous glances towards the kitchen, and back to Jack.

Ianto wonders what he did wrong.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Calling up the Police Force is professionally embarrassing, but not as bad as it could be.

Yes, the DI on the phone makes Jack admit to the whole Unit that they're trapped in their own base, but comparatively speaking, it's not as bad as it could be.

At least there's no Cybermen.

At least there's no Daleks.

At least there's no—oh, wait, there is _one_ zombie wandering about, so he supposed that argument is invalid in this situation.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Jack and Owen go after Suzie while Ianto and Tosh hold down the fort.

He wants to ask Tosh what the hell was going on with her and jack, wants to ask what she heard, wants to ask what the hell was going on in general, but any time he broaches the subject she changes the subject.

Brings up yet another thing that needs to be done.

He wonders if it's actually evasion tactics for a moment, as each thing actually needs doing, at least until he realizes that Tosh is stalling as much as possible, extending each _thing that needs to be done_, and getting him to do things that she could do in a quarter of the time.

It's frustrating.

But he can't feel too sore about it, not with how guilty and regretful Tosh was looking.

Ianto sighs.

Fine.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Tosh is the one to shoot the Risen Mitten, but Ianto's the one who tosses her the gun.

If this were a sport, he'd call it an assist.

As it wasn't, he instead classifies it as story of his life, and moves on.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He's exhausted, and wondering if he can put off finishing the paperwork on Suzie for later when Jack comes into the morgue. And there's the reason he can't.

"Thanks for doing this," he says, like Ianto was going to make him fill out the paperwork on Suzie being dead—again.

Though he tried to hide it, Jack was a bit of a romantic over things… Even if she was crazy and delusional, she was still at one point part of Jacks team. Still at one point his responsibility, and he'd be feeling it. Still. Again.

He'd be feeling it.

So instead Ianto's here.

"It's part of my job, Sir."

"No. I should be doing it, but…" He turns to lean against one of the closed doors, and sighs. It's long, drawn out, and Ianto wants to mention that he would't be feelin this tired if he hadn't outlawed coffee for the day, but thinks better of it for a number of reasons.

(One of which is the worry that Jack might carry the no-coffee rule over to tomorrow if he mentions it)

"One day we're going to run out of space."

Depressing thought.

He feels his thoughts turn dark… he wonders what happened to Lisa's ashes.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Depleted Levels Of Serotonin. _

_Noradrenalin Levels At 68%_

_Adrenaline Levels At 53%_

_Calculating…_

_Calculating Levels Of Testosterone…_

_Calculation Complete. _

_Solution Found._

_Implementing Solution._

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He feels his sleeve shift, pen dropped onto his clipboard, and saw that his arm had moved to clasp at Jacks arm.

Jack seems as surprised to see it there as Ianto is.

He also seems less embarrassed over it.

Ianto's hand moves slightly, and he realizes with some horror that his cybernetic arm is caressing Jack Harkness's arm.

His cybernetic arm is making him grope his boss.

And his boss seems fine with it.

Surprised, but fine with it.

Oh god.

He scrambles for something to say. But _what the hell could he say?_ He feels a weight in his pocket.

"If— If you're interested, I've still got that stopwatch."

Oh god, where the hell can he go with this?

Jack looked confused, and Ianto could just about read his thoughts.

_Nice touching, and now stopwatches? Where is this going?_

Ianto wishes he could answer, but he had no fucking clue, and felt like he was two minutes away from a panic attack.

"... So?" _Where are you going with this Ianto? Sex?_

_Oh gods, he didn't know._

"Well, think about it… lots of things you can do with a stopwatch." Like tell the time. And… time things. And figure out exactly how much time he's been scrambling at this conversation. And… well. You can also just listen t it tick. Where to go from here?

"Oh yeah… hah I can think of a few."

Oh, fuck, Jack thinks he's hitting on him. This is the most awkward, embarrassing conversation they've ever had and—wait, did Jack really think Ianto's attempt at flirting would be this awkward? He's insulted.

He'd done a much better job of it when he was trying to get into Torchwood after Canary Warf.

So he lets a small, welcoming grin slide onto his face. He can do better than that.

The smile turns flirty.

"It's quite a list." He can think of maybe two, three things.

Fuck, couldn't he have grasped onto something else to distract Jack with?

But Jack grins, eyes crinkling.

It's abrupt; the way Jack's attractiveness hits Ianto. He's noticed it before, sure, had noticed when they were catching Myfanwy how god he smelled, and could vaguely remember the warmth of Jack's body both above and below his own…

Suddenly, this doesn't seem like such a bad situation.

There's certainly not going to be any clothing removal, but…

"I'll send the others home early. I'll see you in my office in… ten."

He smiles, a bit eager, and a bit amused at himself when he pulls his pocket watch free and flicks it open.

"That's ten minutes…" he starts the watch to ticking. "…And counting."

He wants to die he feels so embarrassed… but he can't say he's not looking forward to meeting up with Jack.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Calibrating…_

_Data On Sexual Intercourse Extrapolating…_

_Calibration Complete._

_Saving Base Functions._

_Complete._

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Bwahaha, they don't know yet :D_

_Thanks everyone for being so supportive, and don't forget to check out the Intermission I posted! If this is Ao3 it should be in the series (CYBER), and if this is ffn dot net, the story is called __**Cyborg**__. _

_It's not as Ianto-centric, but I enjoy it :D_

_Oh, and excitement for RandomPersonOfDoom, because she's posting chapter 4 of her podfic for my story __**And I Wake Up (**__**Complete**__**)**__… _

_I AM JUST SO EXCITED! Insane!Ianto will drive me crazy :D_

_~Doodled93~_


	5. Janet

**Summary: Daleks vaporized his arm. Cybermen gave him a new one. Somehow, Ianto Jones survives.**

_I would like to thank ToonyTwilight for giving me the phrase 'Cyber-Wingman of Love' from reading the last chapter, because omfg that is amazing._

_Also, you'll notice that I'm actually changing up canon a bit in this chapter, so to those of you who've been enjoying that everything is mostly canon… well. Sorry!_

_Hope you still enjoy!_

Chapter 5—Janet

Having sex with a man is different than Ianto expected. Sure, he'd experimented in Uni, but he'd never gone farther than heavy petting and frottage…

Having sex with Jack… well, he can't say he'd pondered over it much in his free time, but it's… Well, it's certainly something.

He… well, he was feeling a little blown over.

He hadn't known what he was going to do when he finally made his way up to Jack's office, hadn't known how he would be able to avoid discovery…

Turns out he hadn't really needed a plan.

Thank the gods for Jack's suit fetish.

His trousers might need extra dry-cleaning from where they'd been pooling around his ankles, and from the various fluids at the end of the night, and he had two straight-edged bruises on the tops of his thighs (and on his hips, and on his arse, and on his back, from when they'd switched positions) from Jack's desk, but he'd come (ha) away with his secret intact.

Nervous energy carried him home, and he had the vague thought that he might have some form of a discovery kink, the mutated sibling of some other kink, maybe exhibitionism, because he didn't think he'd ever come so hard without being excessively fondled before.

Or, it could be Jack…

Ianto didn't know.

He half looked forward to finding out.

Jack's eyes burn a hole in his shoulders when he's leaving the base, and Ianto can't even feel embarrassed that he can also practically feel him staring at his arse, because before he'd left he'd gotten Jack to repeal the ban on coffee.

It's a good feeling.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Later, much, much later, after their visitors from the 1950's, after another few nights of frottage and heavy petting with Jack, Ianto finds himself in a bar.

Wonder of all wonders, he's there because of Owen.

Further, he's there because he's _worried_ over Owen.

(And that _is_ a surprise.)

As much as Ianto'd like to see Owen and Tosh just get together already (more for Tosh's sake than Owen's), it's obvious to him that Diane Holmes had been someone different to Owen.

Though they'd been together a short amount of time, Ianto thought that perhaps Diane was to Owen something like what Lisa had been to Ianto…

Well, something similar in any case.

(He'd never say it aloud, but he thought Owen's Fiancée was the closest thing to Ianto's Lisa Owen was likely to have… until he pulled his head from his arse and saw Tosh for the amazing woman she was)

But it's worry for Owen tat has Ianto at the bar, and it's worry for Owen (and the lingering thoughts of Jack) that has him interrupting the oncoming bar fight the way he does.

"Hullo," he says, sliding beside Owen, an arm at his shoulder. It's vaguely flirty in the hope that perhaps playing gay would get them out of this situation, though Ianto can recognize Young And Stupid when he sees it. He's angled himself to be mostly in the way of the bloke, and deliberately smiles at the bartender.

If not playing ay, then at least redirecting anger. Dividing it.

_Really_, he thinks, looking at how irritated she's looking at her boyfriend, if he's worried about her leaving him for a bloke she meets at her workplace, this is not the way to go about keeping her.

"Oy, this has nothing to do with you."

"Oh, I'm sure it does." Owen elbows his side, making a face, _bugger off,_ and Ianto knees him lightly in the thigh. _Shut up, I'm helping._

"It really can't. Now, unless you're gonna try an' get a go at my girlfriend—"

"Hey!" Girlfriend isn't looking much happier.

"It's not like that. We were having a _conversation_. One day when you've grown up, you'll see that that's what human beings _do_—and for _god's sake_, Ianto, get your—"

Ianto doesn't see the fist coming, but he still ends up twisting to catch it in the palm of his right hand.

Always his right hand.

He feels like he's getting lazy, in regards to self protection.

The other man—Tommy, apparently—cusses and tries to pull his hand back. Ianto holds firm.

And here's where things get messy.

Tommy pulls back for a swing with his free hand, and Owen reacts by side stepping and moving around to clasp his arm.

At the same time, Ianto twists the hand in his grip, causing Tommy's fist to falter, making him turn to relieve the pressure on his wrist, and—

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

"The fuck d'you do that for?"

Owen is prodding lightly at the bruise blooming high on his cheekbone, and Ianto makes sure to have an appropriately apologetic look on his face when he turns to glare at him.

He shrugs slightly, and tilts his head.

"You're still dealing with Diane. You shouldn't be alone right now."

Owen scowls. He doesn't ask how Ianto knows, which is god, because he should know by now. Ianto knows about everything going on in the Hub…

(So long as it wasn't Tosh wielding a telepathic necklace.)

Ianto rolls his eyes. Yes, he knows how cheesy it sounds. Or, not cheesy, but so very _cliché_.

"No, I _know_ you want to be alone, and in a moment I'll be leaving you to that, but…" he searched for the right words to say. He didn't really talk to Owen outside of trading insults and sarcastic remarks, so he wasn't quite sure how to get things across to him.

"Alright, look, Diane wasn't here for very long, so—"

"Fuck off Tea Boy. Just because she was only here for—_mmphuck_?"

Owen wrenched himself away from Ianto, and he's not even sorry that his hand had reached out to cover his mouth.

(Slightly alarmed, as ever, when his arm does things without his input, particularly things like this, but…)

"You done? Great. As I was saying, I know she wasn't around for that long, but you still cared, and I know it's hard to, to cope, when someone you care about might be in danger. In fact, is most likely in danger, if we're honest."

"Oh, _thanks_ Ianto, that's making me feel a _lot_ better about all this, _so glad_ we had this talk." Owen shook his head and turned to stalk off.

Ianto tugged Owens sleeve, spinning him back around to face him.

"For fuck's sakes Owen, I just want to make sure you won't be an idiot about this."

"Right, like you're an expert."

"I am, actually, thanks." Ianto raised his eyebrows, and resisted the urge to smack some sense into Owen's damn, obstinate head. "Remember me? Cyber girlfriend? Any of this ringing any bells?" He ignored Owen's half-hearted attempt to tug away, and pulled him closer to the mouth of the alleyway.

"Look, I don't care if you're planning on moping about longer than you already are… I'm just here to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

"Like what? Get into a bar fight?"

"Like try to bring her back on a conversion unit."

Owen was silent.

Ianto inclined his head.

"To be fair, it's not likely to happen in this instance. However there are other stupid things to do that work with this situation…" Ianto searched for what he could, conceivably, do, and hoped he wasn't actually giving the other man ideas, "like maybe try and go after her into the Rift and end up who knows where, or maybe opening up the Rift here, in Cardiff, and letting who knows what free _here_…" That got a bark of a laugh from Owen, and Ianto thought it was the first halfway honest laugh he'd heard from Owen since Diane Holmes flew out of his life.

Flew out of Wales. Off to… wherever the Rift drops her off, which, in all likelihood, will be the place she dies.

Best not mention that to Owen.

(he likely thought of it himself, already.)

Ianto gives him a wry grin, and hopes that he's gotten his point across.

He didn't think he could come up with many more ridiculously fatal ideas to get Holmes back without at least one sounding possible.

"Now I'm going home, and if you want you can go find yourself another bar fight… but it might actually be a bit more useful if you signed up for boxing lessons instead. Or a gym membership."

"Hmph, like I'd have the time…"

"No, but still more useful than getting soused and bloody-knuckled over a girl you weren't even flirting with."

"Kid was a brat," Owen sniffs, looking out into the street. "Doesn't deserve his girlfriend if he's going to be a prat over her even talking to other blokes."

"He's also, as you already pointed out, a kid, and is doing a good enough job on his own showing his girlfriend all the reasons not to stay with him without your help."

He pulls his stopwatch out, ignoring the scoff it gets from Owen, and makes a decision.

"If you want, I have beers at my place…"

"Look, Tea Boy, I'm not interested in blokes…"Owen cuts in, and Ianto returns the favor, making a face.

"What? No, no. I'm offering alcohol and movies, not…" He can't even say it. "Not, no. Just—no. I have a couch, if you need it. But no. "

Owen looks at him a moment, blinks and looks down the street.

"…Fine."

This is either a very bad idea, or—

No. No. This is just a very bad idea. Just a very, very bad idea.

Ianto lead s the way to his place anyway.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

One thing Ianto noticed right after Canary Warf is that, aside from the dress shirts for his suits, he doesn't have any long sleeved shirts.

He hadn't thought about it before, but he did wear t-shirts and vests when he wasn't dressed for work. Wore jackets and sweat shirts over top, mostly open at the front.

After Canary Warf, it's the first thing for himself he buys, even before stocking his new apartment in Cardiff with food.

He buys long-sleeved shirts, ones with collars with no chance of slipping or sliding to the side even the slightest bit. He gets himself sweat shirts that don't open in the front, gets hoodies and soft woolen jumpers that didn't chafe at his still-tender shoulder, and learns to layer with the intent to cover.

If Owen thinks it's strange that he wears his gloves in the comfort of his own home, he doesn't comment on it.

Ianto thinks it's just because Ianto just always wears his gloves, it's become part of his _image_.

Ianto Jones; Suits; Archives; Tea Boy; Gloves.

Things that made up his whole.

Ianto nurses at one beer while Owen goes through his entire case; watches as he moves onto his liquor cabinet. They watch Bond Films until they get into an argument on who was the best Bond, and then they move onto Monty Python, anything more complex than that too much for Owen's alcohol ridden brain.

Owen's still a prat, is a much more pleasant drunk than Ianto could have imagined, and is just as horrible with a hangover freshly woken up as he is when he brings all that grumpiness to work.

Ianto can't find it in him to regret inviting him over, even when he gets weird looks from Tosh and Owen when they walk in together.

The mottled mess of a bruise on the side of Owen's face gets a wince-and-grin from everyone though.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto wants to know why anyone would want to steal Weevils.

He knows he's been spending too much time with Jack after-hours when the first thing to come to mind is a possible fetish society.

His second thought, the much more likely idea, is perhaps a group of people making up their own… sort-of Torchwood.

You know, Catch the aliens, keep them from stacking the populace…

Only, they'd likely be more like Torchwood One, because he can't imagine them getting very far after catching the weevils, and can only picture experimenting and point-blank killing after the search-and-capture part of this hypothetical new group.

So he checks out the local hospital records.

A surge of unusual injuries.

Huh.

He doesn't know if he should be relieved or not, but he can at least be thankful that it's not likely there's another Torchwood One around.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Jack finds him after hours in the Archives, and Ianto didn't expect a change in attitude from Jack after they shagged, and for the most part it's true.

(except for the shagging part. That still happens, and it's certainly different.)

Jack doesn't treat him any differently, doesn't give him any sort of preferential treatment, and Ianto is ok with that.

He's slightly less okay that Jack's heated looks now have a bit more intimate knowledge behind them, and is surprisingly very okay with the increase in casual and not-so-casual touches he gets now.

He might be imagining t, too, but Jack's gaze is a bit warmer, more affectionate, he could ay, when he looks at Ianto, and this is actually a surprise.

He'd thought that, because the entirety of their… whatever you wanted to call it, was just about entirely clothed.

Well. On Ianto's part at least.

And Ianto didn't ever stay the night.

Never took off his shirt.

Never even took off his gloves.

This was all due to paranoia and secrecy on Ianto's part, and he does feel guilt about having sex with Jack with this secret still between them… feels selfish, because when it comes out he knows Jack will place even more blame on himself for not seeing it.

But he enjoys being with Jack.

And, even with Ianto being somewhat distant, seemingly bashful at times when it's a moot point, Jack seems to be enjoying it as well.

Even when they aren't fucking.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Tosh and Owen are out with Jack, Tosh in the van making sure they're staying on target with her computer programs, and Ianto hears everything on the comms. Jack's conversation with the voice-modulated Unidentified Other on the phone is recorded, and he sets the program to write out the conversation going, prints it out, and files it away.

He shakes his head.

Don't goad the Mysterious Figures, Jack.

Or, he thinks, at least do it in a way that gets more information.

When Jack calls from an unknown number, Ianto is already tracing each and every call that's been made to and from it from the past month before Jack can even ask. He can hear Owen cussing in the background, presumably checking over the body left for them.

He's glad Owen has something else to focus on, here. He can't imagine what he'd be doing if he were still self-destructively moping about.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto is the one to go with Gwen to break the news to the man's family about his death, because he knows she's had to do this before.

Ianto has always been on the cleaning up side of things; making bodies disappear, putting people, thoughts, notes, anything really, just… moving them. Just out of sight. Out of mind.

And then he makes sure to move them even farther away, makes sure everything's all cleaned up.

He's never had to talk to someone face-to-face to tell them that their spouse/parent/sibling/offspring had died, but he knows from Gwen's files as a Constable that she's had to.

Knows it, and figures he might be a bit more of a comfort than Jack or Owen might be in this. Tosh might be better, but she was following a lead elsewhere.

When she asks, somewhat rhetorically, what the wife and children were going to do now, he doesn't even think before he replies.

"They'll learn to cope—or they won't. Either way, they'll have to move forward at some point." Ta the look she gives him for that, his mouth twitches. "Well, you can only stay still for so long before you go 'round the bend."

It's a quiet drive back, and Ianto thinks maybe next time he should be the on to tell the family.

Gwen may be more used to doling out the news, but it was obvious she—well.

Disliking the job was putting it mildly.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Ianto thinks that if Owen had instead been going off moping, he'd likely be in Ianto's place right then.

He thinks of this possibility fondly, running his white-gloved hand down the front of his slightly dressed-down suit.

But as it is, Gwen and Tosh would be seen through CCTV, Owen and Jack were both in the warehouse, and Ianto had been the only one to stay at the base, and so was the only one whose face wasn't associated with Torchwood…

And so Ianto Jones is going into Property.

The gloves feel strange on his hands, so used to his black leather ones now, and it would probably be best to do without them altogether… except that's not an option for him.

He sighs.

This is worse than having a tattoo you want to hide to get past a job interview.

"Mr. Jones?"

Ianto makes sure he looks the very picture of competence (not a hard thing to do), and does his best to look like he was used to being in charge… in a less servile manner.

Mark Lynch only hesitates half a moment when he sees Ianto's gloves, only the slightest of gestures giving away his surprise, and Ianto can't quite get a gauge on how this meeting will go from the handshake. He can't feel a thing through the metal, and he can't look and try to guess at the pressure the other man is giving the handshake and hold eye contact for the appropriate amount of time.

Ianto was head Archivist, and kept Torchwood Three running, but at times it was patently obvious that he was Part Archivist and part Butler when he wasn't being the behind-the-scenes second in command, communications wise.

He uses the skills he's had to develop as the main link for Torchwood to the outside world now, and he thinks he does rather well pitching _Jellied Eels_ to Mark Lynch, considering.

Jellied Eels.

_Ugh. _

Way to go, Tosh. Way to go.

He spins some small yarn about having moved from Cardiff when he was a child, and was now hoping to make his way back into the area and maybe reconnect with some 'lost family'… thinks that if it were anyone else save Gwen, they would have had an easier time pulling this off, accent wise.

He almost misses the sidelong glance Lynch gives him, but he recognizes it, and wants to groan.

Would he never be free of a work environment where he's ogled on a regular basis?

The sheets he's given on the properties are all shit, he knows from their addresses—he'd done his research before heading out.

So he asks about the warehouse in the Q Section he'd seen an ad for, making it obvious even without directly saying so that he would be interested in paying more than what anyone else _might_ have offered on the property.

When he's told that the property is pretty much signed and sealed, he doesn't let his disbelief reach his face.

He doesn't need Tosh's voice in his ear to tell him that the place was only put up a week ago.

He doesn't know where the conversation turns, but Ianto's being asked out to drinks, and it'd be a fairly understandable thing, except for how he phrased it.

Ianto sighs inwardly and resigns himself to the fact that he's going to have to deal with the flirting one way or the other.

When he leaves, offer for drinks turned down, as well as the offer of 'putting in a good word', he's thankful that the website he and Tosh had put together would be doing most of the work for him next.

He gets back to the Hub just in time to hear Tosh answer under her alias, and ignores the smirks Owen and Jack give him.

"What," Owen says, "you didn't give him your number?"

Ianto wonders why he'd ever been worried about Owen Harper, and starts up the coffee machine.

Owen gets decaf.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Instead of using Janet the Weevil

(and honestly, _this_ is why Jack didn't get to name Myfanwy)

as bait, Ianto is with Mark Lynch.

Seeing a hanging punching bag, Ianto absently swings at it, wincing when it swings much more than it should.

Should have used his left.

"So," he hears behind him, "What's your outlet?"

He's curious until he turns around, and Mark Lynch is fit, sure, but really?

He plays dumb to be safe.  
"… for what?"

"Your anger." Lynch is cocky, in the way he hold himself, in how he's just about strutting in showing off his muscle, the V of his hips, and he laughs like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Who says I'm angry?" Annoyed, sure… exasperated, certainly, but anger? He didn't think he had the energy to be angry.

Lynch scoffs. Or, he supposes, Mark, because if they aren't on a first name basis yet then he'd have to be uncomfortable with the facet that Mark seems fine with just hanging out with his shirt open.

For fuck's sakes, this guy is worse than Jack.

"Oh, c'mon, I can't tell if you're more angry or afraid of the world. You look like you're at the top of your game, and I'll bet anything you clawed your way up just to get a better vantage point. _And_," he adds, "You're not even living it at _the_ top of the game yet, and you've got people after you!"

Ianto doesn't wince, because seeing Tommy-From-The-Bar at another bar had been unexpected. His nose was still ruddy and bruises had turns his jawline green, and he'd very much so recognized Ianto when he'd seen him.

Ianto had had a moment of panic, of _oh fuck this'll blow everything to pieces_, but Mark had thrown himself into the fight without any sort of hesitation.

Ianto raises an eyebrow, and tilts his head minutely.

"Look, I'm not criticizing… but you aren't the only angry man in the world, not even close, you fancy a beer?"

A change in topic and direction to get him off balance, along with a line that encourages similarities… Ianto wants to know where in the conversation Marks trying to lead Ianto to.

He wonders where he's going with this.

He takes the beer when offered.

"You work your arse off, get a house, a car, a big plasma screen… you end up with a workforce… people there, specifically to look after your every need, your every whim, you're officially successful, and what does it bring?"

Ianto stays silent, sips his beer, and thinks that he's the _people_, the _workforce_, and he does a bloody well good job of it. He makes things run _flawlessly_.

"Nothing. Success is of no worth in and of itself." Ianto raises his eyebrow and glances around the spacious kitchen. Right.

"No, seriously. I could do without all this stuff. It doesn't define me… yes, it does make things easier," he admits under the look Ianto gives him, "but the thing is I don't need it… there's just so much more. And it's closer than you think."

Ianto gives him a contemplative look, and wonders why people seem to find it so easy to just talk _at_ him all the time.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He wishes he'd just let Mark talk at him some more, rather than getting the brilliant idea to break into the locked room in his house…

And he might not like Weevils all that much, but it's not a good feeling, seeing Mark Lynch beat away at the one he's got locked up.

And Lynch knows Ianto's part of Torchwood, or at least that he's with 'the bloke in the big coat,' and the 'cute little Asian girl'… and Ianto may have tossed the still useless gun he'd kept on his belt, but he still had his Taser at his armpit.

And now Mark was bringing him to see whatever the fuck was happening.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Weevil Fight Club.

It's Weevil fucking Fight Club, for the rich and idle and _stupid_.

Ianto can't even comprehend how someone could even think of something like this—

Oh, we found mutant alien things that attack and have fangs and claws and are much stronger than us… oh, I know! How about we start up a fight club where we beat up on each other and then try our hand at beating at these dangerous creatures!

Yeah.

Great idea.

Lynch catches up to him when he turns away from the little bit of insanity set out on display.

"How long are we going to play this game, Ianto. You lie, bullshit, _sweet talk_…. But you are hiding. Ianto, you are _hiding_."

He can't help himself.

He has to laugh.

The sound fairly explodes from his chest, feels like a punch to his diaphragm, because _no shit Sherlock_.

He's been hiding for months, for nearly a whole fucking year, and what? Lynch thinks that _Weevil Fight Club_ will get him to stop hiding?

"You have _no_ idea," he gets out between laughs, and can't stop the low chuckles even when Lynch pulls a gun on him.

Not _his_ gun, which was still somewhere in the guys apartment, so bully for him for getting a _working_ gun, but that doesn't really matter.

"Get into the cage."

He grins when he puts his hands up, palm out, and sniggers when he says, "I'm unarmed."

There are a limited number of hand/arm jokes once can use without being too obvious, but so far the few times he's gotten to use them have each been as equally funny.

Ianto Jones is hilarious, even if only secretly. Mostly secretly.

"That being said… lower the gun, and _then_ I'll get into the cage."

Lynch cocks it.

Ianto walks forward, slow, and brings his hands down to his sides.

Stops just short of bumping into the barrel.

"Good Boy," he mocks, parody of what Lynch had said to him hardly an hour earlier, and walks past him.

This was a horrible idea, but he'd lifted one of the other blokes' phones off of him and sent the address and '_weevil fight club_' to Jack, Gwen, Owen, and Tosh's numbers, so they'd likely be there in short time.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He doesn't pay attention to the sort-of tips Lynch is giving out on the walk over, only tries his best to stop giggling before he gets into the ring.

"Yes, yes, darkness and souls and hiding things and would you just open the door already?"

Lynch gives him a put upon frown, and Ianto mockingly pats his cheek with leather-clad hands.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to look into its eyes and laugh or anything. Wouldn't want to make this whole thing any more of a joke than it is."

The cage is opened.

Ianto steps through, and takes in the ripped up but still recognizable coveralls, and grins.

"Hello Janet."

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

Gunshots go off, and Ianto can't even be surprised that it's Jack.

Janet, who had been keeping a steady distance from Ianto before that, jumped forward, and his arm immediately moved forward.

His Left arm, because his Right was going around the mouth, around to the scruff of the Weevil's neck, and grabbing a handful of skin and pulling.

Janet yowled, teeth releasing the flesh of his arm—

Another set of scars to add to his collection, he supposes

—and Ianto moves to the side so he can shove her past him, turning to slam a fist down on the back of her neck.

She goes down, stunned, and when Gwen manages to get the cage door open he gets the hell out of there.

Gets out, and grabs the idiot who'd moved to go in with one of their Taser sticks.

When he resists, Ianto remembers that he has his own Taser, and uses it.

Owen smacks the back of his head and grabs his hand,

Thankfully his left, though _ow_

Pulling it closer to inspect the spreading red spot in his most-likely ruined jacket.

"Fuckin' idiots, the lot of them," he mutters, glaring at the assembled men. Ianto nods agreement.

Owen looks up from picking wool fiber from the bite, and glares at him.

"You too, you tosser. _We evil might club?_"

Ianto stares at him, uncomprehending, before he realizes what he's talking about.

He shrugs. "Autocorrect."

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Just a reminder, I posted a side story for this, for the episode 'Random Shoes' if you're interested :D It's called __**Cyborg**__. _

_And how did you like this then? Too much of a change? _

_I don't think I've read a story yet that does Ianto fighting in the ring instead of Owen, so, huzzah for that… _

_One thing I would like to make mention of, because my sister mentioned it, I realize that I've made Ianto a bit more, hmm, touchy feely than he is usually portrayed. My reasoning for this is because this is Ianto's way of rebelling against the Cybernetics. Cybermen 'delete' emotions after/during conversion, so, consciously or not, Ianto is making sure to _care_. _

_Even if that caring, in this case, is for Owen._

_~Doodled93~_


	6. Ianto

**Summary: Daleks vaporized his arm. Cybermen gave him a new one. Somehow, Ianto Jones survives.**

_So… _

_I've got a couple of people being like "omg Doodle, srsly, just have them find out already," and those who are readers of my S3, CoE fix-it will know that demands like that have no effect on me. "C'MON, LET THEM BE REUNITED ALREADY!" is a thing I've heard multiple times, in various ways, in various tones ranging between wheedling and demanding, and yet here we are…. 110k later… :D_

_(Well, not HERE, but in T3W, and… yeah.)_

_Also I plan to write a sequel to this, for S2, and maybe even S3, though that depends (TOO MANY FIX-ITS maybe), but this is me saying that those of you who don't know what else I can write for this storyline after Ianto's arm has been found out… you lack imagination. THIS IS AN AU! There is so much that can happen with a metal armed (ha for double meanings if not entendres) Ianto!_

_But for now, the next chapter!_

_ENJOY! This is probably the lengthiest chapter I've done, as in it's about 13 pages… but with reason. So yeah. ENJOY!_

Chapter 6—Ianto

With Weevil Fight Club, and healing, and having Owen crabbily fussing over him, Ianto almost forgets about Jack and Tosh's weirdness.

He shouldn't have, especially since looking back at things shows that Gwen _certainly_ hadn't missed being out of the loop, _especially_ since the last time he'd left a worry alone it had turned into this problem to begin with…

So he really has no one to blame but himself for what happens next.

That didn't mean he didn't stare accusingly at Jack and Tosh, confused and hurt and irritated as they lay what felt like his heart and soul out in front of him. Broken. Bleeding.

Metaphorically.

(If they'd left stains everywhere for him to clean up, on top of _this_…)

Well—they didn't lay it out in front of him, specifically, but that's what it feels like when he comes into the kitchen to find that they've dismantled the coffee machine.

_Why would they do such a thing?_

He looks at the pieces, all laid out neatly and with a sort of order he can understand, and purses his lips.

Looks up at Jack, who's holding something in his hand, and at Tosh, who is at least looking a bit apologetic about what she's done.

_Sacrilege. _

_They've killed the Coffee Machine._

He wants to wave his finger at them, to rub their noses in the parts like you do with a naughty puppy, _look at what you did_, but he can't make himself move from the doorway.

Can only give them a hurt, _betrayed_ look.

"You broke the coffee machine." He says, because Jack is giving him his almost patented _It Had To Be Done_ look, and Tosh is silent but looking much too pleased with herself.

Decaf, he decides, for at least a month, and _ouch_, it hurts again because he doesn't know how long it'll be before he can get the coffee machine up and running again.

Because they killed the Coffee Machine.

He's not too busy trying to wrap his mind around what sort of logic must've been needed for such a thing to seem like a good idea that he doesn't notice that Jack and Tosh are still saying nothing. He can hear the door to the Hub open, Owen or Gwen coming in to work, but he has no thoughts for them now.

Because they killed the coffee machine.

"You took it apart. _Why_?" he asks, demands, _pleads_, because he can_not_ see how taking apart the coffee machine accomplishes _anything_. Nothing good will come of this.

"Because of _this_."

Jack opens his hand, and there, in his palm, is a white-grey stone. It was jagged, and porous, and Ianto couldn't believe it.

He feels like some part of his brain dies, just to escape the madness.

"You took apart my coffee machine for _that_? For a _moon rock_?" Ianto enunciates clearly, so there's no more miscommunication, because obviously he'd missed some sort of memo, somewhere_. This should not be possible_, he thinks, _because __**I'm the one who makes the memos**__. _

"No, see, Ianto, it's a moon—wait, you know about it?" She looks confused, but the part of his brain that died was also the part that made him care about not confusing his coworkers.

"You knew about this?" Jack was frowning, now, and Ianto pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, because _I was the one who put it there_. I talked to you about this, Jack, _months_ ago."

Ianto had, too, and he could see Jack remembering the day even as he opened his mouth to deny it.

He'd asked about if there was anything toxic, or possibly harmful about, around, or that could come from moon rocks, since the Rift had pretty much dumped a load of it in their metaphorical back yard, and Jack had cheerfully told him no.

"Wait, why did you put a moon rock in the coffee machine?"

Ianto spun, and raked fingers through his hair.

He hadn't ever regretted the need for gloves so much as now, when he couldn't get a good grip to pull with the leather. Because they killed his coffee machine because of a rock. A rock _he put there_. On _purpose_. And it was just about a physical need to pull at his hair right then

He spins back around to face them, heels of his palms pressing at his eye sockets for a moment.

"_Because the coffee machine runs on rocks."_

"What?"

"What?" Owen was now behind him, and was jumping between giving him disbelieving looks and alarmed looks at the tragedy of his dismantled coffee machine.

"_What'd you do to the coffee machine!?"_

Ianto put aside the camaraderie he felt towards Owen right then to push forward. He'd gained momentum—Owen would just have to catch up.

_Because they'd killed the coffee machine for a moon rock._

"Did you think I went on hikes because I _liked_ it?" he asks; mind running in two different directions.

One, wondering how they've all survived so long with people who did such _stupid_ things, and the other wondering if he'd ever actually stopped to explain how to take care of the coffee machine before…

At once, he abruptly realizes that no, he hasn't, and also that without knowing the specifics, this isn't such a stupid thing to do.

Maybe. Sort of.

Kind of.

He sighs, suddenly very tired, and slumps into a chair.

"I suppose I should probably have explained it before…" _you decided to kill the coffee machine_, he doesn't finish. Because they shouldn't have done it in the first place.

He sighs again, and thinks that the worst thing about it all is that he can't even make himself a coffee to feel better.

Because he's still annoyed, and feeling spiteful, he says this aloud, and feels a little bit better after hearing the groans from the rest of Torchwood.

If—no, _when_ they got the coffee machine back up and running, he's putting everyone on decaf until…

Until stupid ideas like _killing the coffee machine_ make them _flinch_.

It's like reverse clicker training for dogs.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

"…So… the coffee machine really does run on rocks?"

Gwen says this slowly, carefully, like she's tasting the words on her tongue and isn't sure if she likes the flavor of them.

Ianto nodded, handing another part to Tosh when she gestured for it, and sighed for what felt like the thousandth time.

"You've been feeding us rocks?" Ianto blinks at Owen, and is almost amused at his tone. He sounds like he doesn't know if he should be fascinated, disgusted, or amused. "Talk about roughage."

"When did you start using Moon Rocks?"

Ianto leveled Jack with a look.

"About a week after I asked you about them. They last longer than even Gneiss… what? I had to look up the types of rock I could use when I figured out why the coffee machine wasn't working so well the first time. Gneiss brings about a stronger coffee to even decaf; concrete adds unnecessary sugars…"He takes in the look on everyone's faces. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not exactly tossing dirt in there. It's work, getting to the little holding area, and I have to make sure it's the right size, and it's much more convenient getting one good, clean, hard rock than having to change it weekly because I chose something… gravelly."

Jack looks pensive. Weighs the bit of moon rock in his hand. Ianto gives him an unimpressed look.

"…Okay. Ianto, no more Moon Rocks."

He got up from the table, obviously intent to leave, but Ianto got up and blocked the door.

"No. Jack, I'd like to know… what, _exactly_," he enunciates, because fuck if he's ever letting this happen again, "prompted you to take the coffee machine apart?"

Jack makes a face and bounces slightly on the balls of his feet.

"… Well—"

"Actually, Ianto… that was me." Tosh gets up from the table, and he resists the urge to snap at her to go back to the table, to repairing it—_fix what you've done, stop using your techno-powers for evil_—because that was on the wrong side of rude. "Remember… Remember with Mary? And the necklace?" Ianto remembered. "Well, I heard something a bit odd… from the coffee machine. It was like it was sentient—very interested in what we were doing…"

Ianto digested this bit of information. He very carefully didn't consider the… alternative for what she'd heard. It could have very well been the coffee machine.

"And why didn't you come to me about it? I mean, I'm the one who uses it the most…" he thinks on this a moment, and Jack and Tosh share a glance. It was the exact sort of glance they'd been giving each other for months now… Owen and Gwen frown, also wondering, when the start of an idea blooms in Ianto's mind. "…I'm the _only one_ who uses it, so why…? Wait. You thought—"

"Ianto, it called you _the Provider_. I'm sorry, but—"

"What? You thought Ianto was—"

"Wait a moment, you thought Tea Boy was being _controlled by the fuckin' coffee machine?_"

"Okay, everyone QUIET DOWN. Yes, we thought Ianto might be being controlled by the _alien_ coffee maker, and _yes_, because of this we thought it'd be best to keep this from Ianto. _And_—" he cuts Gwen off before she can open her mouth more than a fraction, "we kept it to Toshiko and I until we could confirm it, because we didn't need anyone treating Ianto differently. If he had been controlled, it would have given us away, and… As it is, he _isn't_ being controlled, which is a relief. But… no more moon rocks. Satisfied?"

Ianto moved aside, and sat with Tosh to help her put the coffee machine back together. His mind reeled.

So that was what it would be like to be confronted about being controlled by something…

Well, he just hoped they'd keep this interaction in mind when they found out about his arm.

_Or_, he considered, _maybe not_.

Didn't need Tosh thinking his arm was sentient, after all.

The thought made him uncomfortable.

(Because what if it was?)

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

The nozzle fell to the table with a metallic clunk, and rolled to the edge.

Tosh caught it before it could fall,

"Ianto?"

and glanced at him, fingers and screwdriver fiddling with the insides of the coffee machine.

He shook his head, a quick jerk, and headed out the door with a mutter about getting coffee—strange, so _very_ strange, to be saying this while leaving the kitchen—and just about ran for the tourist shop.

He didn't actually run, mind, but he did make it there very quickly.

Out of sight of the rest of the team, he leaned against the wall and gasped.

Gripped at his arm—

Realized how stupid it was for him to do that, even with the _feeling_—

Gripped his shoulder—

And just waited.

Waited as he felt pins and needles, a ridiculously impossible bone deep ache, and it just didn't make sense.

He didn't have an arm.

It was all metal under his suit jacket, all metal except for a stump of bone and slivers of cauterized flesh, and that meant he shouldn't be feeling like his fingers were going to fall off, numb to the point of pain, _and it shouldn't_—

The rest of Torchwood avoided the Tourist shop except for coming and leaving, and even then, most preferred to leave via the invisible lift.

It's for this reason he felt safe in gripping the fingers of his glove in his teeth and pulling it off, feeling with bare fingers at the metal hidden at his cuff. Because it wasn't real, it wasn't real, it wasn't, because his arm wasn't there, no, there was metal, skin warmed but still cool to the touch, still—still—

Oh.

Through the pain he felt in his nonexistent arm, and the shakes that were overtaking him, Ianto remembered a bit of trivia he'd learned from his childhood…

Phantom pains.

He remembered, there had been a war vet on his street, a curmudgeonly old man who snarled at anyone who let their eyes wander from his face, wander anywhere close to the stump where his leg once was.

It's with some irony that Ianto thinks on his and Rhiannon's nickname for him, The Ol' Pirate. They'd said he was a peg leg and a ship away from being one…

(He was a hook away from it himself…)

But he remembered hearing about the phantom pains.

It was the brain forgetting that there wasn't a limb there, neurons trying to fire and coming up short, lighting up the nerves instead… remembering pain instead of facing the fact that there wasn't anything there to command.

He'd thought he'd felt it before, twinges and aches and sharp pains, short bursts of sensation.

Now he supposed he'd been getting the light of it.

The pain was fading, receding like blood returning to a sleepy limb, except there was no limb, and he let go of his metallic wrist long enough to give his shoulder a squeeze. He knew where the ropey scars underneath were from memory even if he couldn't feel them through three layers of cloth, could only feel the hard line where flesh gave way and metal didn't… and it could be his imagination but he thought the pain was going away faster.

Mind over matter, perhaps.

It worked both ways here.

He was about to pull his glove back on when the bell above the door chimed. He casually tried to move to close the door to the Hub, slipping the leather back into place, because he should have done that earlier, likelihood of having the rest of Torchwood coming up here being unlikely or not—

When he has to pause.

Three purple-faced men came in, one after the other, their absurdly large shoulders brushing the edges of the doorway, and Ianto could feel his eyebrows rising.

They weren't out of breath that he could see, but what else could make their faces…

And then he noticed the distinctly alien looking guns they each had in hand, a sort of club held in the other.

_Ah_, _aliens_, he thought, _of course_.

"Did you need—" _something_, they didn't let him finish, because the one in front raised his gun and fired. He felt a crackle of electricity in the space between and—

Ianto brought up his hand automatically, and the smell of burning leather filled the air. He shook his hand, could feel something attached to the glove, and when what looked like a bit of fluff fell to the floor, he winced.

Dammit, he had to get new gloves now. Quickly.

There was a hole in the direct center of his palm, leather and thread curling around the edges, ragged, and the three burly purple men had apparently gotten over their surprise at him deflecting their attack, because the one in front raised his gun again.

Ianto again brought up his hand to block it, and then remembered, and then thought _oh shit_, only his arm wouldn't go back down, he couldn't dodge, and—

His last thought is on the inadvisability of defending yourself from an electrical attack using a bit of metal that's directly attached to your torso.

And also, _OW_!

But that was a given.

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Emergency Power At 215%_

_Recording Data…_

_Recorded. _

_Results Positive._

_Record Made, Title:_

_Electrical Current On Provider—_

_Error—_

_Error—_

_Error—_

_Scanning Provider…_

_Error._

_Running Diagnostics…_

_Troubleshooting…_

_Start Data Storage…_

_Started._

_Estimated Time Remaining: _

_6 Minutes._

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

"Oy, Tea-Boy, what were you—hey! What are you doing with—"

"Ianto! Put him down right now!—"

"I'm activating the emergency sys—"

"Mate, _giddown onna floor_! Giddown Mate!"

"Wot? Wot dey gonna do onna floor? Wot dey—oi! Don't do dat!" _THUNK_

"Owen!"

"Innit though? Did dat ak-shully hurt 'tall? An dey gotta get onna floor b'cos dats what we're s'posed ta say t'em. Innit?"

"Jack, he's not waking up, Owen's not—"

"Mate, o'course it is. An I said GIDDOWN OR IMMA SHOOT YA MATE!" *sound of shooting*

"Tosh! Gwen! Get—"

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Finished._

_Results…_

_Distressing. _

_Provider's Resistance To Electrical Current:_

_Negligible. _

_Minimum Voltage Felt: 5Hz_

_1ma (Alternating Current), 5ma (Direct Current)_

_Burns At 500-1000 Volts_

_Estimated Direct Current Experienced 7.27 Minutes Previous:_

_Calculating…_

_Translating…_

_Approximately 56,000V, Reduced mA._

_Results…_

_Distressing._

_Solution:_

_Redirecting Excess Energy…_

_Adjusting Storage…_

_Estimated Time Until Current Stored:_

_28 Minutes._

_Estimated Time Before Provider Is Functional:_

_25 Minutes._

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

"Wot we gonna do wi'em now? Dey're onna floor. Dey're done up wit der cuffs. Wot now Bruv?"

"Mate, we're…. er… we gonna do da same as all treasure hun'ers do, we will. We're gonna…"

"Put 'em in cells, innit? Innit de next step Bruv?"

…

…

"Wot dese controls all do? Wot we s'posed to—"

"Mate! We got de first un open, can't be hard ta—"

"Hey Bruv, dat one moved! Innit not s'posed ta do dat? Innit s'posed to—"

"Wot!? We gotta get 'em inna one of 'em! Git 'em in de one dats open!"

…

…

"…ugh… what are… hey, wait— fuck. Jack. Jack, you need to wake up. Jack. Owen. Owen, wake—"

"Ouch! Who bloody well kicked me? Gwen? Why are we in the Weevil Cells… oh you have got to be kidding me. We got taken out by a bunch of _chavvy aliens_? Fuck, I—"

"Owen, what are you doing? You need to get Jack up! Maybe his wrist strap—"

"Yeah, yeah, hang on Gwen, _I get that_, thanks. But _first_, if you don't _mind_, I'm going to stop crushing Tosh. For fuck's sakes woman…"

"Oh."

…

…

"Oi Bruv, dey wakin up. Wot we gon do when we got de treasure found? Wot we gon do wiv em?"

"Mate, we gon… we gonna get ta that point when we get der, kay? First, we gotsa find da treasure first. Find it, an' _that's_ when we figger out what ter do wiv em."

"Couldn't we jes knock 'em out 'gain? Knock 'em out an get 'em outta de cells and leave? Innit an option though? Hey Bruv? Innit?"

"We gon figger it out _after_ we get de treasure."

"But innit an option though? Innit Bruv?"

"Jes keep watch over 'em, make sure dey don't 'scape or nothin'. We're gon check out dis door over 'ere."

…

…

"Anything?"

"No, they must've damaged it with those guns of theirs… Might take a bit for the electrical current to stop messing with my controls."

"Keh, who the fuck comes up with something like that?"

"Actually, it's a fairly brilliant idea, if you consider the weight distribution, and if you can just get the velocity up, find a way to give it just a little more weight…"

"Tosh, it doesn't take away from the fact that they shot _electric cotton balls at us_. And it _worked_. I repeat. Who the _fuck_ thinks of shit like this?"

"Jack, do you recognize them at all? What kind of alien, where they might have come from?"

"I haven't seen anything that looks like them before. But the gun… there's something about them. I just can't quite put my finger on it…"

**~Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt! Dzzzzzt!~ **_(cont.'d)_

"What the… oh shit. They're trying to get into the Archives."

"What are they trying to get from there?"

"It could be anything, but there are quite a few things in there that… well. We can't let them get in."

"Well, we have some time. They set off the second set of emergency lockdown systems when they tried to break down the first one."

"You managed to start the program then? …Don't give me that look, I know you're Good, but we've never had to check to see if you're Aliens Shouting Orders, Swinging Clubs, and Shooting Guns Good. How long do we have?"

"… It depends on how quickly they get the hang of our technology."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I think there's a reason that they put us into _one_ cell. _All of us_, I mean."

…

…

"Dey're all woken up, Bruv, 'cept the one with the shiny on his hand."

"Wot dey sayin? Dey try to 'scape yet?"

"Naw, but 'parently we set off a second alarm or sommat."

"Mate, I think we've figgered dat out already."

"Well, we didn't know 'twas de _second_ alarm, did we? So dat's news, innit?"

"Jes keep listenin. Lissen for how ta turn it _off_, whydoncha? Dey ain't goin nowhere til the shiny mate wakes up."

"Hard to hear 'em wiv all dis _noise_, Bruv…"

…

…

"… Wait a sec…"

"Owen?"

"Tea Boy hasn't woken up. And in case you haven't noticed that alarm is blaring pretty fucking loudly. But I can't… Gwen shift over, I need to check his pulse…"

"…Owen?"

"… I think he'll be ok. But I think they hit him with a higher charge than they used on us."

"You _think_?"

"Shove it, Harkness, there's only so much I can do with my arms tied behind my back… oh get that look off your face. This isn't even remotely the time for it."

"But why would they use a higher charge? Do you think they maybe don't know what charge to use on humans?"

"I don't know, but we've got bigger problems right now. We need to get out before they get into the Archives, and to do that we need to get out of these cuffs. I need to be able to see my wrist strap in order to get the door open… as Owen so eloquently put it, there's only so much I can do with my hands tied behind my back. Anyone got a lock pick handy?"

"Sorry, it's not something I generally carry around with… did Ianto just move? Ianto? Are you ok?"

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_Estimated Time Remaining:_

_10 Minutes._

_Results:_

_Insufficient. _

_Analyzing Situation…_

_Solution Found. _

_Calculating Risk…_

_Not Optimal._

_Solution Search Parameters Adjusted._

_Calculating…_

…

…

…

_Alternative Solutions Found Substandard._

_Employing Primary Solution._

_Redirecting Main Focus._

_Adjusting Survival Parameters._

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

"What is he… oh, _brilliant_ Ianto."

"What are you…?"

"They probably think we won't be going anywhere without Ianto awake, so…"

"…So he plays dead, and hopes the cameras don't pick up that he's crooking his finger at us?"

"His hands wouldn't show on the cameras. It's not the right angle for it."

"Shouldn't we be _whispering_ for this…?"

"They've still got the alarm going. I can barely hear you, and the mics on the security feed was never meant to be good enough to hear through this… But Ianto, you can unlock…?"

"It's a good thing they can't see Tea Boys hands, because there's not much question as to what a bloody thumbs up means… for fuck's sakes. Work has turned into a game of fucking charades…"

"Well, if it works… now cover me. They can't see Ianto's hands, but they'll sure as hell see mine. Tosh, in front of me, Owen, Gwen, in front of Ianto. Let's get started…"

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

He wakes to the feeling of his arms being jostled—to an extent.

His left arm has gone just about entirely to sleep, pins and needles and numbness that he automatically tries to flex his hand through.

He hears someone curse, probably Owen, only he can't hear too well over the sirens. How had he slept through that?

"…s probably cut off most of his circulation. Shove over, I'll check him out."

"If you'd just give me a moment, I'll get his cuffs—ah."

The hard line that had been digging into his wrist is gone, and he can relax into a more comfortable position.

What was he doing before this…?

Oh. Right.

Purple men. Aliens. Guns. He got shot.

Twice.

Electrocuted.

Right.

He feels a smile twitch at his lips.

He might be in shock.

(ha)

Fingers that feel too warm are at his wrist, rubbing circulation into them, and he tunes into the voices around him again. Through the alarm.

Gods it was annoying.

He opened his eyes a crack, wincing, and looks up into Tosh's eyes.

She looks concerned, and he supposed she should be, considering it looked like they were inside a Weevil cage… he blinked.

Were they actually?

"…sakes, took your time on it, didn't you? Serve you right if you lost an arm…"

The fingers left his hand, and Ianto's eyes shot wide open, heart rate skyrocketing.

Because he had lost an arm, and he needed to move, he needed to get away, because nonononononononononononoNO this is not, it's not—

Owen's muttering abruptly stops, and Ianto squirms enough to be able to look wide-eyed over his shoulder.

But he can't catch Owen's eyes, because he's looking at something else.

"…Owen?"

Ianto turns his head back, abruptly realizing that there's more than just Owen to worry about, because there's Tosh, and—

Movement out of the corner of his eye, and fuck, just fuck it all, just fuck his fucking life already—

Of course Jack and Gwen are also in the Weevil Cage Of Ianto's Doom, because where else would they be?

At the Owen's stillness, Jack pauses from where he's fiddling with the controls of his Vortex Manipulator, and looks over at Owen.

"What is it? Is Ianto okay?"

Ianto meets his eyes, sees the concern and knows his own blue eyes are probably showing some mix of shocked, panicked, and resigned…

And then Owen finally speaks.

"Bloody Hell."

Ianto blinks, because he was expecting something a little more... dramatic? Maybe?

The poleaxed expression is enough, he thinks, but…

And then Gwen leans over Owen's shoulder to take a look, and her eyebrows rise drastically.

"Jack, I…Did I miss the memo that said Ianto has a metal hand?"

.-~-~-~~-~-~.

_GAH. _

_So, writing all dialogue is difficult. But I do want to keep this Ianto!pov-centric. _

_That being said, depending on when this gets posted (writing this, here, right now while struggling through the first "Innit though?"), I'm writing another side story…_

_This time Jack's pov. Up to and including this chapter. (Woo? Yes? No?)_

_It'll be up eventually. Probably after the next chapter. (Saying this _now_, right before posting this…)_

_But look! It happened! What you've all been waiting for!_

_And also the mystery about wtf Tosh and Jack have been sharing looks about is revealed!_

_Also, I know nothing, really, about voltage (V) and hertz (Hz) and amperes (mA), but I'm fairly certain it's more volts=less amperes, but I don't know what it does to Hertz. _

_So if I got all that jargon wrong… well. I tried. It's been a while since physics and chemistry class has been a thing. Feel free to correct me. I encourage it. _

_Also, in my mind, the three aliens are Mate, Wot, and Innit. They certainly have actual names, ones their parents/Beings Who Brought Them Into The World gave them, but when I was writing out the dialogue, I separated them into actual characters by having them use their names as much as possible in each sentence, which is how Mate ended up being the 'leader', as Wot and Innit are too full of questions and looking for affirmation to do much without following someone else's lead. _

_Also, I HAD a note here about T3W, but that's been updated (finally), so all I can say is I am indeed working on the next chapter. Of it AND this story. _

_~Doodled93~_

_(P.S. Livers may know the secrets of the universe, but you should all know that the secrets to any book may be found… _

_In the appendix. _

_BADUM TCH.)_

_(P.P.S. REPEATING almost INSIDE JOKES TO THE PUBLIC FTW!)_

_Apologies for the rambling notes I leave you guys here. I know you mostly ignore it, but still. -_-_


End file.
